The Life and Death Of Rio Hikari
by Saint Sentiment
Summary: The Hikari family history before Satoshi's birth. Rio's adventures in the cursed world of a family of tragic artists.
1. Gifted Artists

_Chapter One: Gifted Artists_

Author's Notes: I have been reading DN Angel fan fiction for a few months now, and so far, I've seen stories centralizing around every main character. But not once have I seen a story where it talks about what Daiki or Emiko Niwa's life might have been like, much less Rio Hikari.

This story is the product of a dream I had about a month ago. I won't tell you what happened in the dream, because that is in this story. However, I will tell you that the Hikari family is, in my opinion, much more interesting than the Niwa family. These two families are alike in that they have very unique genetic conditions, but the one thing that sets them apart is that the Hikari family is plagued by misfortune.

Unlike Dark, who is funny, exuberant, and flirtatious; Krad is mischievous, cruel, and sadistic. So...can you imagine what it would be like to deal with someone like that? Could you imagine what it would be like to have to deal with this kind of person all hours of the day and night, and the worst part of it all is: you're stuck with him because he's in your DNA? What about this "no-emotion policy" Satoshi has to abide by? Could you do that?

I couldn't, I can't get through the day without laughing, it's impossible. Anyway, I'm rambling, but this is the purpose of the story. To see what it would probably be like to be an Hikari. Oh, by the way, this story is written in Rio's point of view, but she acts as 3rd person omniscient at times. I hope you enjoy reading!

* * *

The Hikaris were the most gifted family of artists ever to walk the earth. More awe-inspiring than Rembrandt, these blessed human beings had created masterpiece after masterpiece effortlessly for a staggering life-span of some 400 years. That is, before the blood line started to disintegrate, leaving behind one artist to suffer alone. That lone artist was my son.

An Hikari acquired their astounding gift at the moment of conception, conceiving a soon-to-be masterpiece in their young minds before their unworldly hands brought it to life on a canvas.

This is usually what would appear in a history book or a caption below an Hikari painting in a museum. But the surprising truth is that, while the Hikari clan most certainly was the most gifted artists in the world for more than a few centuries, they are also the most cursed.

The family history is plagued by death and misfortune. These prevalent evils stem from one person: the Original Hikari. The sins of the father have cursed his children. As my mother once told me regarding him: "His insidious desires have plunged himself and generations of Hikari's proceeding him into the very depths of hell."

What did the original Hikari do so wrong? Well, that answer lies in the art he created himself. Though society saw his art as beautiful and praise-worthy, he perceived his own creations very differently. He despised his paintings, and a true painter is never satisfied with his work. Him never being satisfied is what ultimately condemned generations of his clan.

Turning to the powers of darkness to console his heart, he made a pact with the spirits of the dark arts. In exchange for otherworldly artistic ability, he would have to pay a price. These spirits had deceived him by promising him with this amazing ability, but on one condition: he would have to unravel the mystery of his price, and over time, find out what he was _really_ paying.

Years passed, and he came upon the dawn of realization. In dismay, he found out he had sacrificed his own happiness.

Not only his own, but the happiness of his entire bloodline. As he had been cursed, so had the family members outliving him. On his deathbed, he regretted what he had done. But it was already too late. After his death, little did the Hikari's know that the suffering was only beginning..

* * *

_Rio, age 6_

"Sayuri, stop it!" I helplessly cried as my mother struck me again and again. She ruthlessly took a clump of my hair in her fist and positioned me over her lap. Then, using her free hand, spanked me with brutal force, despite my protests. I screamed and desperately tried to free myself, all the while yelling that I was sorry and wouldn't disobey again.

"Didn't--I--tell--you--to--stay--out--of--there?" Sayuri screamed, hitting me in between her words. The hairs in the crown of my scalp were loosening from her vicious pulling, and the skin of my bottom was red and bleeding. Ken finally decided to intervene after his own violent episode with my brother Souta, who was quivering and sobbing on the floor, clutching the top of his head in fear of his hairs getting pulled again.

"Alright, alright! That's enough, Sayuri!" he shouted as he yanked me from her grip.

Her face was red with fury, and she was breathing as if she ran two miles to get here. Before she had the chance to hit us again, my father grabbed us by our arms and dragged us up a long stair case that led to two large double doors.

He released us from his grip for the briefest moment to open the doors, and I thought of running away at that precise moment. But if I left my brother here with this monster of a man, he would never forgive me. Even if I proved myself just as heartless as my father and ran away, he can catch me before I have time to blink.

My brother's intensifying sobs broke my trail of thought as my father viciously grabbed me by my hair and shoved me in the room along with my brother. When we fell, we slid across the floor and came to a stop in the middle of our room. The echoing slam of the doors made my heart jump.

I looked up with teary eyes to see the large double doors standing there, solid, almost boasting that their strength will keep us from the outside world. My brother's sobs were almost non-existent now, for I could barely hear him. He was still except for his back moving to the slow rhythm of his breathing. I thought of taking him to our bed, but it seemed he was better off laying rigid on the floor. It didn't seem he wanted to move from his position anyway.

I cursed under my breath as I gently felt the crown of my head, my finger tips getting wet from contact. Wincing, I stood up and tried to silence my whimper. Every part of me ached, especially my bottom, staining my once white dress with blood. Whenever I came across misfortune, which was pretty much everyday, it was always a tendency of mine to blame it on anyone besides myself. Since my brother was the only person near me, I decided to yell at him to soothe my horrible mood.

"Oh shut up!" I said to him. "Your more of a girl than I am!"

My brother glared at me through his red rimmed, watery eyes. He clenched his fists and growled at me. "Your always getting us into trouble!" he cried.

Seeming as it was true, I couldn't come up with another insult. I stood there silently, ashamed of myself while he struggled to stand. He glared at me for a second time, and then ran out onto the balcony.

I turned away from him and tried to forget what he said. Taking my attention off of him and his pitiful state, I walked to my dresser and pulled out a mirror. Holding the handle, I elevated it over my head to examine the wound. My blood stained my scalp, and little red droplets clung to my blue strands. I dropped the mirror and let it fall to the floor, breaking instantly.

I didn't care, all I was concerned with was the wound. I snatched one of my nightshirts off the floor and lightly pressed it on my head to cease the flow. While stanching the wound, tears fell from my eyes. I was angry with myself because I couldn't hold back anymore. One of the hardest things to fight is tears.

I was so tired of everything. My parents, the beatings, and every other thing in my miserable life. This isn't how children are supposed to be treated.

After I was sure the bleeding was accounted for, remorse started to take hold of me. It _was_ my fault. Everything was my own doing. He's right...I _am_ always getting us into trouble. Unless I apologized to him, the guilt would haunt me for the rest of the night, maybe longer.

I cautiously stepped closer and closer to the balcony. I didn't want him to hear me, if he did; he would probably run away again. When I approached his shaking back, I whispered:

"Hi, Souta."

My brother went rigid again, and his voice broke the tranquility of our surroundings.

"Shut up! I hate you! I'll hate you forever! So just stay away from me!"

Unaffected by his insults, I smiled and sat next to him. "You know, after we get into trouble, we always sit on the balcony and talk things out."

"I don't _want _to talk, Rio." he sniffed, still hiding his face in his arms.

"You wont hate me forever. In the end, we're still brother and sister."

"If you were a _good _sister, you wouldn't drag me into doing stupid stuff with you."

I remained silent. If there's one thing Souta is good at, it's making me feel bad.

"You know we weren't supposed to touch that, Rio! Sayuri says the Black Wings are very dangerous!" he said as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

I huffed and crossed my arms. "I hate this family. You cant have fun...it's all about the 'family legacy'."

Souta didn't seem to hear me. He was deep in thought, pondering over something unknown.

"Do you know...what Ken said is gonna happen to me when I'm older?" he whispered.

Besides puberty, every single male in the Hikari family inherits a psychotic blond on their 14th birthday. No one in my family who has ever met or dealt with him before has lived to tell the tale. The only reason I am familiar with him is because since I was very little, our parents would scare Souta and I into submission with terrifying tales of this otherworldly creature. To us, Krad was a very real bogeyman.

"Oh, you mean...that Krad guy?"

Souta's eyes widened like he couldn't believe what came out of my mouth. "What do you mean 'that Krad guy'?! He's horrible! Ken says he's overprotective and jealous and--"

"Calm down. He cant be much worse than our parents." I said, trying to reassure him, "When that time comes, don't worry. I'll be here...I promise."

He studied me for the longest time. He was gazing into my eyes as if he was trying to find a reason not to believe it was true. He must have not found any hint of deceit in them, because he smiled as tears formed in the corners of his eyes. His expression said 'thank you' but he did not say it to me. Instead, he looked away and stared up at the myriad of stars in the night sky.

Souta didn't seem too convinced, but as the case is with him and many other people, sometimes saying you'll be there--even if they know you probably won't--suffices for what they're feeling. In other words, Souta didn't seem to believe me, but since I promised him I would help him by taking on a burden he knows is his and his alone, he felt better.

"I know that Ken just didn't come up to you and tell you that. They're mean, but not that mean."

He sighed. "Well, it was late...and you were sleeping...when I heard them talking about it."

I nodded in approval. "They always talk about that sort of stuff when we're not around."

My brother then asked something that I didn't expect: "Rio, do you think they know...what's going to happen to us?"

"What do you mean?"

He gulped. "Well...you know they always gossip about stuff when we're not around, and it's almost like...they know the future or something. Like the way they talk about those things...it's like they knew it was going to happen."

I pondered for a moment. Sayuri would talk of things to Ken as if she expected it, now that I thought about it. About two years ago, Souta and I were sitting at the dinner table with our parents and she was talking about my deceased aunt, whom I never met. The conversation went like this:

"I told her to stay away from Keiji, but she was just so infatuated with that unworthy dirt bag, she followed him around like a dog follows it's master. That night...I swore I smelled alcohol on his breath, but I disregarded it for my sister, and now look at her. She's deader than a damn doornail."

"Then maybe _you_ should have drove her home, Sayuri. I told you before and I'll tell you again--do _not_ ignore your bad feelings. It's not like it's right sometimes and wrong other times...you always know, when it comes to that." Ken said haughtily.

Sayuri crossed her arms and looked away from him like she knew he was right. She shook her head and narrowed her eyes.

"I know." she whispered.

Souta asked her to elaborate, but she rudely ignored him and sent us to bed.

I didn't want to upset him with an answer he obviously did not want, but I felt it was the truth, and I should tell him nothing but.

"Yeah. I think they know." I solemnly nodded.

Disappointed with my reply, he rested his hand on his chin and groaned. "I hate this family."

"Don't worry...in the end, we're still brother and sister."

My words did little to soothe his broken spirit, but he showed me he appreciated my words by scooting closer and leaning on me. We gazed at the stars until we fell asleep there in the tranquility of the balcony.

* * *

Sayuri Hikari, my mother, was an intelligent, though aggressive woman prone to fits of anger at any given moment. Due to her rapid and unpredictable changes in mood, her husband and children lived in intense fear of her. She was a lanky creature who always wore her curly blue hair in a bun with a pencil in it to keep her hair in place. She had the appearance of a cruel schoolteacher. She had pink cheeks, pink lips, fierce blue eyes, and always wore high heels.

She carried the special privilege of being behind the miseries of her unfortunate husband and children. I don't think anyone really knew why. When I asked Ken why she acts the way she does, he simply said:

"Your mother was born with a predilection for cruelty."

As for Ken Hikari, my father, he spent most of his days in the shadow of his fearsome wife, dedicating much if not all of his energy to avoid conflict with her. This meant that he had to be just as nasty to us as she was. Whenever she beat me, that was his cue to inflict pain on my brother. Whenever it was just me who was guilty of wrong doing, they both contributed to my painful reminder of the consequence for disobeying.

He was tall as well, having eyes as dark blue as my brother's, and jet black hair. He was my brother as an adult, to put it simply.

When Sayuri walks the lengthy hallways of the Hikari mansion with the heels of her shoes creating all sorts of annoying echoes--well, that was our wake-up call. This usually came about at 6:00 in the morning.

I hated Sayuri more than anything in the entire world. When her dreadful echoes sounded throughout the mansion, I wrinkled my nose in distaste and scowled under my breath.

"Dammit," I whispered angrily as I stirred from my sleep. Souta was already awake by then: the thought of getting up to her waking-call was simply unbearable. He sat on the other side of our bed in a daze, due to his low blood pressure, which runs in the family. I cracked my back and groaned.

"Hate the morning.." I drowsily whispered to myself. I sluggishly walked to my mirror and examined my bruised face. My cheeks and lips were slightly swollen and red from the day before, when they should be pink like Sayuri's. My unruly, blue spiral curls fell carelessly over my face. The crown of my head still ached from the pulling, and a dried blood spot was still very noticeable there. Tear streaks from yesterday's despair was still subtly noticeable running down my purple cheeks.

I felt no anger or shame from my appearance at all. I looked like this half the time anyway. Sayuri's injurious tendencies were so prevalent in my life I just didn't feel sympathy for myself anymore.

The same could not be said of my brother. His once smooth jet black hair was now sticking up at different angles, and in some places, the hairs had been ripped out from the roots. His lower lip was as purple as my cheeks, and his dark blue eyes had lost their deep color. It was as if the crying had drained the ocean blue from his eyes. His pitiful state sent a twinge of remorse through my aching body.

"Souta, I'm sorry. I love you." I said as I stared at his reflection sitting solemnly on the bed. I was sure he wouldn't hear me because I had whispered this, and Souta never payed attention to anything in the morning. His low blood pressure rendered him distant from reality for half and hour or so. But unexpectedly, I saw him slowly close his eyes and tilt his head in approval. At least I thought he heard me. He could be just falling asleep again.

Giggling at the thought of him falling asleep while sitting up, I whispered under my breath, "You're so silly.."

"Am not." he said in an annoyed tone. I covered my mouth is surprise. My brother had good hearing.

At the breakfast table, I usually was not present. I was conscious of the fact that Sayuri despised me with all of her being. Sayuri would frequently refuse to feed me, and after what happened yesterday, I knew I definitely was not going to be fed today.

The case with me did not prove true to my older brother, who was fed everyday at the breakfast table. It wasn't that Sayuri didn't hate him, it was just that she didn't hate him as much.

Ken sat quietly away from Souta, reading a newspaper while he dined on pancakes. A child's giggle was heard coming from underneath the table, so Souta looked under the table cloth to see the youngest of the Hikari children, Setsuko, smiling cheerfully at him.

Setsuko was 5 years old. She looked similar to me, except her hair was not curly. Her light blue locks laid flat against her head, stopping at her shoulders. Her blue eyes were big and round, full of a child's happiness. Souta found it incomprehensible as to how one could be happy when born into such a horrible family, but seeing her smile was better than seeing a frowning face stained with tears.

Setsuko giggled and pointed at his bruised face, "You look funny!" she squealed.

Souta frowned and glared at her. "You know what?"

He thought for a moment. The last thing he wanted to deal with was Sayuri's wrath because he said something that upset Setsuko.

"Just shut up." he growled.

Sharp fingers pinched his back. He yelped in pain and took his head out from underneath the table. Sayuri was poised over him, her fierce blue eyes sending waves of fear through him.

"Eat." she said sharply. He cringed for a second and apprehensively obeyed.

Setsuko peeked out from under the table and looked at her mother, "Mommy, where's Rio?"

Disgusted by the very mention of my name, she clenched her fist and squeezed it. "I don't know." she said through gritted teeth.

She had lied to our sister. She knew exactly where I was, and it was far away from her, just the way she liked it. I was sitting in the backyard of the Hikari mansion. Well, it wasn't really a backyard. It was actually a vast meadow full of different breeds of colorful flowers. I happened to be sitting in a pink carnation patch.

Once, when I was 4 years old, Sayuri told me to never sit on any part of the meadow with red flowers on it. I asked why, and she said that centuries ago, in the Sengoku, or "Warring States" period, the meadow used to be a battlefield. The red patches were where the soldiers had died, and if you ever sat on it, the spirit of the soldier lying underneath the ground would unleash it's wrath upon you.

What a load of bull. She didn't want me sitting on any red patches because those were her favorites. Sayuri had a gothic personality at times, with melancholic tastes. She liked the red flowers because they reminded her of blood. The very same year she said this, Souta had informed me that she cut Ken with a kitchen knife. Bewildered with the news, I asked him if they had gotten into a fight. Souta said no, Sayuri, "Just wanted to see what that would look like."

Disturbed by my own thoughts, I shook my head and tried to think of something else.

A few hours later, Souta came running out to meet me. He tapped my shoulder and smiled at me. I peered at him from underneath my sun hat.

Souta was smiling when his lips were too bruised to smile. But the color in his eyes returned to him, and in that moment I knew he was back to normal. The deep ocean blue always indicated that he was either happy or at peace. I didn't know which one he was feeling, but I smiled back and leaned on him.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

"Don't apologize. It didn't happen."

Souta took an odd comfort in pretending that any misfortune that came about simply was not real or a dream. That was his problem. He would go along with me in my audacious pursuits and completely forget Sayuri's mercurial nature.

My smile faded and I became silent. Maybe Souta had the ability to repress his bad memories, but as for me, this misery was all too real.

The dried blood spot stung where Sayuri had pulled my hair. The hat I was wearing did no good protecting me from the sun's rays.

"Souta...do you know why Setsuko is so happy?"

My brother looked at me, obviously puzzled by this question. "No. Why?"

"Because...Sayuri has favorites." I whispered in his ear. "She hates us. Setsuko wasn't at the house last night. She never lets Setsuko around me or you, that way she wont turn out like us."

Souta was still as he contemplated what I told him.

He turned to me and narrowed his eyes. "Maybe it's better this way. If she doesn't hang around us, then she wont act like us. Then...she wont get beaten like we do."

I knew he had a good point. As much as I loved Setsuko and wanted to spend time with her, Sayuri would never allow it. And for good reason.

"Then that means that Sayuri is protecting Setsuko...from herself?"

"In a way, I guess." he whispered.

"Souta! Rio! Inside now!!" Sayuri roared.

Sayuri never let her children outside for long. Not because she was afraid that they might get hurt, not because they had places to go or chores to do. It was because she simply lived for her children's misery. She knew I loved the outdoors. It was the only way to escape my prison of a home and psycho of a mother.

That night, Souta and I were in our bedroom. We were sent to bed early on a daily basis because of the possibility of influencing Setsuko in any way whatsoever.

In our room we usually did one of a few things: play memory games, draw, fall asleep, or complain about family life. This particular night, we were complaining about family life. The both of us were laying next to each other in the spacious bed we shared, conversing with one another.

"They don't like girls in the family. Do you remember when mom called you a 'curse-spreading being'?" Souta asked.

"Yeah. But I'm not mad at her."

"Why not?"

"Well...she's always calling me nasty names...and if I'm a curse-spreading being because I'm a girl...then she is too."

Souta only studied me and did not reply.

"She just called me that because she hates me...she called me that because she hates herself."

He stood silent. A few minutes later, his eyes were half lidded. Soon after, he fell asleep, leaving me awake.

I stared at my older brother, admiring his gorgeous features. His black hair was strewn about his face in such an adorable fashion, and he seemed at peace. I smiled to myself and ran my fingers through his sleek bangs.

"I hope my son looks like you." I whispered. Then I drifted off into sleep.


	2. Childhood

_Chapter Two: Childhood_

Souta and I woke up at 6:00 in the morning to get ready for school. I slipped on my white school shirt and navy blue skirt, along with my "shiny black shoes" as I liked to call them. Souta put on his white shirt, tucked in his pants and slowly brushed his hair. He was going through a lot of pain. Tears were already streaming down his cheeks, but he had to do it. It was either him who styled his hair or our parents.

I asked him to brush my hair and style it how I usually wore my it: pig tails. He did as I asked him to, but after he was done, he gasped in surprise.

"What's wrong?"

"It shows, Rio. Look!" he pointed at the top of my head. I looked in the mirror and sure enough--the blood stain from two days ago was still visible.

"Mrs. Misaki is going to know.." he said with concern.

It might sound insane that abused children wouldn't want others to know they're being abused, but we had a good reason. As much as we wanted freedom, we knew deep down in our hearts that Sayuri would never let us go. Our parents had power. Our parents had money. Our parents had an unrivaled artistic reputation. All of that against one worried teacher?

Impossible.

Besides that, I don't know about other schools around the Azumano area, but ours was filled with cruel children. They would undoubtedly make fun of my blood spot. Not that they didn't make fun of us half the time anyway for coming to school with ''purple faces''.

"It doesn't matter," I protested, "She can't do anything anyway."

Souta frowned and nodded. We went to school after that without breakfast and without being accompanied by our parents. From Sayuri's point of view, she gave us legs and we don't need her to use them.

At Azumano Elementary School, the children whisper to themselves as we sit in our desks. I could feel my blood spot burning, which could've indicated that one of the kids were staring at it. I thought I heard someone say "Look at that," but I wasn't sure.

The teacher does exactly what I don't want her to do. Instead of telling us to take out our crayons and paper and draw something, she approached me with the most peculiar look on her face. She wasn't staring at me. She was staring at the crown of my head.

"Honey..." she pointed to my head, much to my humiliation, and whispers, "What is that?"

She asks the question as if the children haven't already noticed it and she doesn't know the answer. She wants me to say it. She knows.

"I bumped my head.." I say nervously. Mrs. Misaki obviously does not buy this, so she grasps my shoulders and bends down to my level.

"Now, Rio..." she said very slowly, cautiously, "I know somebody did this to you. You don't have to be afraid. Please tell me who did this."

Why don't you call my mother and find out?

"No one did this, Mrs. Misaki." I say, trying to keep calm and composed. My eyes dart to Souta for a second, who's now grey eyes are filled with terror.

"I did this to myself. Feel it. There's a bump." I grab her hand and place it on top of my head, and she gingerly caresses the soft spot. I wince and try to smile. You'd think that having this for two days might lessen the pain. But the dried blood spot is still as sore as it was when Sayuri beat me.

Mrs. Misaki wrinkled her nose and shook her head. I know what she was thinking. She knows I'm not telling the truth.

She walks to the phone while the other 1st graders gossip and drool. Beside the phone, theres a little table with a brown box on it. She flips the lid off and shuffles through the white cards. Finding my name, she stares at the phone number for a few seconds and takes the phone off it's handle. She dials the number and puts the receiver to her ear.

A few seconds pass and the class goes silent as she begins to conversate with either Ken or Sayuri.

"Yes. This is Mrs. Misaki, I'm Rio's and Souta's teacher. May I have a few minutes of your time?"

Silence. Her eyes glimmer, and I'm expecting that one of them said something rude to her. I look over at Souta again, who was a moment away from bursting into tears, he was so petrified.

"Yes. He has a blue lip too..."

Mrs. Misaki doesn't talk for a long time. Her fingers twitched every now and again, and I could only imagine what one of my parents were saying to her. The teacher gulps and shakes her head.

"No," she said rather nervously.

A few more minutes of silence. Then Mrs. Misaki hastily hangs up the receiver back on it's cradle. She didn't approach me for the rest of the day.

Souta and I walked out of the school while the other children had to wait for their parents. They stared at us the entire time until we were out of their sight. When we walked home, Souta usually led the way. But when I realized the street we were walking down wasn't one I recognized, I asked him:

"Souta, where are we going?"

"One of them goes here," he mumbled to himself as we approached another school.

"Who?"

Souta pointed to the entrance. "This school...a Niwa goes here."

The fact that the progeny of the Hikari's adversaries attended a different elementary school than us didn't surprise me. When I asked if we had to go to Azumano elementary, Sayuri snapped:

_"Hell will freeze over the minute an Hikari goes to school with a Niwa."_

"A Niwa? Which one?"

"Emiko." Souta said.

We studied the school for a while until a man and a red-haired little girl came out. Her hair was short and her eyes were huge. She reminded me of Setsuko, because she was smiling. When I was a child I wasn't used to seeing smiling children. I was accustomed to seeing a child who's lips were bruised, cheeks red, and half lidded eyes. Myself.

Souta stepped back and pushed me behind him as they passed. The taller man's gaze met ours for a brief moment, and his lips parted as if he wanted to say something. He quickly turned his head and focused on what was in front of him.

"Is that an Hikari, papa?" she whispered.

Her father rudely shushed her and they continued on their way.

_An_ Hikari? Shouldn't she have used the plural?

Someone taps my shoulder and I jump in suprise. Souta gasps. Behind us is Sayuri, looking as cruel and annoyed as ever.

"This isn't the school you go to is it?" she growled.

"Uh, no." Souta apprehensively replied, gulping.

"Then what were you doing here?" she stares him down, but he's so scared he can't get the words to leave his lips.

I quickly change the subject."What are _you_ doing here?"

Her glare shifts to me, and instead of pinching my cheeks and fiercely commanding that I don't speak unless spoken to, she replies:

"I thought you guys went here. But now that I think about it.." she looks at the entrance to the elementary school. "I don't remember ever walking through those doors."

"Why did you come here?" I inquired audaciously. Sayuri put a hand to her hip and tapped one of her heels on the pavement.

"I was going to knock some sense into that fucking nosy teacher of yours. The way I treat my damn children is none of her business!"

She bends down grabs my cheeks. Pinching them, she whispers threateningly,"Tell me where she is."

I refuse to answer, and Souta cups his mouth in shock. My defiance only makes her squeeze them harder.

"_Tell_ me," she demands hoarsely,"Or I'll add another bruise to your collection!"

Luckily, Ken grabs her shoulder and viciously pulls her off me. When he did, I thought Sayuri would rip my cheeks off. My face burned while they argued in public.

"What the hell are you doing, Sayuri?" he says.

"I'm going to find her! She's not going to even _think _about getting child services on us when I'm through with her!"

"Stop acting like an immature child! You can throw your temper tantrums like a five year old when we get home!"

He grabbed her wrists and attempted to drag her down the street. We just stood right were we were. Souta was rigid from fear, and I was amused by the entertainment. I only wished they had chosen home as their battlefield, because a woman across the street opened her door to stare at our quarreling parents.

* * *

Finally at home, we retreated to our room. Echoes of screaming climbed up the walls and passed through our doors. It was coming from downstairs. There was so much chaos going on at the bottom floor we couldn't tell who was yelling. Souta weeped to himself on the bed and covered his ears. I listened intently to the noise, hoping to hear some fragment of a comprehensible voice.

The only things I could decipher was ''f'' this and ''f'' that...and to think, one call from the teacher could upset her this much.

"It hurts..." Souta whimpered, almost inaudibly,"It hurts.."

It never occurred to me in my girlhood that there may have been a possibility that our parents permanently traumatized him. But as we grew up together, deep rooted fears and intense phobias became prevalent in his behavior. Whenever anyone in the classroom got angry, even if it wasn't at him, he would twitch and cringe as they yelled.

One time a girl stomped on her milk carton because she ''specifically wanted chocolate milk'', and Souta gripped my arm so tightly I thought he would crush it.

He then told me,"I wish they would just find a brown cow and squeeze some milk out of it."

I laughed at him, and he pouted that he was serious."Anything to stop the yelling," he said.

To get him out of his misery, I proposed we play a game. It took a while for him to calm down, but he eventually complied.

"For I am the Phantom Thief Dark, and I have come to take the Sage of Sleep!" Souta roared, chest high and smiling.

We played these role playing games for as long as I can remember. Souta was always Dark Mousy, and I was either Krad or myself, defending the artwork in danger of being stolen in a grand art museum. This game was called "museum."

I was myself, since I didn't like playing Krad's role very much. It always bothered me that I had the responsibility of playing Krad, and Souta playing Dark, when neither of us had met them before. To us, Dark Mousy was as much of an enigma as Krad was terrifying.

We knew nothing much about Krad's other half, except that he came from the Black Wings and was born the very second Krad was, and came from a family called the Niwas, whom we also have not met. But regardless, we played this game everyday, and it usually began from where we had left off the day before.

Yesterday, I was walking through the museum, vigilant of anything suspicious because I had gotten a note from the Phantom, and then the guards (who were usually portrayed by our stuffed animals) told me that Dark Mousy was somewhere in the building. Today, Dark was facing me, haughtily exclaiming that he had come for a magical device called the "Sage of Sleep", which composed of an earring and a small mirror.

"You'll never get this!" I yelled, holding up a small earring from my Princess Play set and a old makeup mirror that Sayuri threw away.

The only thing we knew about the Sage of Sleep was that it was an artwork with magical properties created specifically to capture Dark himself. One time, I said jokingly to Sayuri that she could use the Sage of Sleep to suck up all the fish in the pond, and we could cook them when we got home. Not amused, she snapped: _"Nonsense! Anything caught in that mirror is as good as dead! Once you're trapped in there, you'll never get out."_

"I most certainly will!" he shouted as he charged for me. I smiled mischievously and tackled him to the ground. Using the old make up mirror, I shouted: "Return!"

Souta screamed and pretended he was being sucked up into the mirror. I stood up and triumphantly exclaimed: "The Phantom Thief Dark is no more!"

He giggled and gave me his hand, and I helped him up.

"Since Dark is dead, we have to start all over again." I said.

"Yeah," he agreed, "But you remember what you promised. You're Krad this time, and I get to escape."

I sighed and nodded."Ok, ok."

I threw the mirror and the earring in some forgotten corner and pessimistically whined, "I wish Setsuko could play with us. She could be the guards instead of the stuffed animals."

"Mrs. Cat wouldn't like that very much!" Souta said as he cradled a ginger colored, stuffed cat in his arms."She's been a policeman protecting the greater good for a gazillion years now! You cant just throw her away!"

"I know but--"

"Say sorry! You hurt Mrs. Cat's feelings!" he said as he gently caressed the top of her fuzzy head.

Looking back on it, I thought it silly to apologize to an inanimate object, but when I was a child, everything was alive somehow and capable of getting their feelings hurt. If I didn't say sorry to Mrs. Cat, she would never forgive me. Next time around, she could get back at me by not telling me when Dark's in the museum, and he'll steal an Hikari artwork right from under my nose.

"I'm sorry." I tilted my head in shame.

"Good." Souta closed his eyes and nodded his head in approval. "Besides, you know what Sayuri would do. I don't wanna get hit again. It hurts." he sniffed.

"Okay, okay. Mrs. Cat can still be a policeman." I said, trying to reassure him and get his thoughts off of Ken. Whenever he thought of something sad he cried, and if I saw him crying, my guilt would come back to haunt me.

"Okay then..you're Krad--" he said as he pointed at me.

"But I don't know what he acts like."

Souta thought for a moment. "Just act really mean. Ken said to Sayuri that he's a ruthless, psylotic..._b-word."_

When he said 'b-word' he whispered this, since we were beaten twice as hard for cursing.

"_Psychotic_," I said, correcting him,"And was it the b-word that means a girl dog or the other one?"

He scratched his head and gave me a quizzical look. "I think it was the other one. The one for the 'girl dog' is only for girls, right?"

"The other one is for boys," I confirmed, brushing my hair back with my fingers and tying a pink hair scrunchie around it.

"How come you put your hair in a ponytail? You always have it in pigtails." Souta asked.

"I asked Sayuri what he looked like once. She said he has really, really long blond hair that comes all the way down the the floor and he always keeps it in a pony tail."

"But..." Souta shot me a confused expression, "He's a boy. Why would a boy want hair that goes down to the floor?"

Annoyed with what seemed a lengthy conversation to me at the time, I haughtily exclaimed,"I don't know! Maybe his mom said he couldn't cut it!"

"Alright, don't get mad," he cringed.

Later, we acted out a new episode. Dark got into the museum, and showed his face unexpectedly from the shadows. Krad reacted to his presence with comtempt. The personality I established for Krad was taken from Sayuri's behavior, since I couldn't think of anyone more cruel than her. This upset Souta, and before I knew he didn't want to play anymore, he burst into tears and fled from me and onto the balcony.

''Hey, what's the matter with you? You said Krad acts really mean!" I whined.

"But don't act like Sayuri!" he squealed. He covered his head and wept, "It hurts! It hurts..."

His violent episodes with our parents left such an impression on him that whenever Sayuri would approach him he would cry and cover his head because he didn't want to get his hair pulled. His sister acting like our mother brought disturbing memories back to him, and his fragile heart couldn't take it.

Feeling degraded, I didn't dare say anything further to him. I just sat next to him on the balcony and waited for him to stop sobbing. When he did, he looked up at me with teary gray eyes, drained of their ocean color once again. Everytime I saw those gray eyes, I thought of someone pouring a cup of water on the ground and watching it spill.

"You don't need to be Krad anymore if you don't want to." he sniffed and rubbed his eyes.

"I'll be whoever you want me to be. It doesn't matter. Just don't cry."

I rubbed his shoulders and smiled at him. He smiled back and leaned on me. "Ok."

Our childhood was our games in the forbidden rooms of the Hikari mansion. Our childhood was playing together all day and falling asleep in each other's arms at night. Unfortunately, our childhood was also being beaten and abused by a foul-tempered woman and her cruel husband.

"Souta! Rio! Dinnertime!" Ken bellowed from downstairs.

We scrambled to our feet, and I dusted off my dress, and Souta, his shirt and pants. We trotted downstairs and sat at the dinner table. Souta was excited, knowing he was going to eat today, while my stomach churned with dread at the thought of Sayuri sending me to my room and once again refusing to feed me.

Ken was sitting down at the table, arms crossed and looking annoyed. He was staring at Souta. Before I could explain anything he shook his head and scoffed.

"_What_ are you _wearing_?" he growled.

Souta was wearing all black, since the history books claimed the Phantom always wore that color to blend in the shadows of the night in a dark museum. He flinched at the sound of Ken's voice and tried to explain himself.

"Well--"

"You look like a thief." Ken interrupted, "What stupid game were you playing that Rio convinced you to dress like that?"

I glared at him from the other end of the dinner table and cursed under my breath. I never convinced him to do anything! Well, at least even he could tell who my brother was trying to impersonate.

Sayuri emerges from the kitchen with a pot of boiling soup. The sweet smell of the vegetables and meat travel across the table to tantalize my nose. She sets the giant pot down, and dissapears into the kitchen to get more food.

"Where's Kayako?" Ken shouted into the kitchen.

"She was 'sick' today. Lazy bitch. I saw her looking at one of the guards last night. Probably out with him. You know he didn't come today either?" Sayuri shouted back from the kitchen. Ken shook his head and sighed heavily.

Kayako was a house servant who usually did the groceries, cooked dinner, and prepared the table prior to our arrival. As for the house guard Sayuri assumed she was interested in, there was so many house guards I can't remember how many we had. It wasn't unusual for me to walk down the hallways and see men in uniform, most of whom I've never even seen before, lined up against the wall with a gun of some kind.

How could Sayuri keep up with what men were absent from guard duty and those that weren't?

She reappeared with some soba noodles and deep fried tofu and set it on the table. Ken stared at Sayuri with a confused expression when she sat down and took a sip of her wine. Noticing that he was staring at her, she shot him a glare and yelled:

"What the hell are you staring at me for? Your mother gave you arms, did she not? Serve yourself!"

Souta and I stared with gaping mouths and for the briefest moment, admired her for her amazing audacity. She _actually _yelled at her own husband, in a society where women feared their husbands and respected them.

When Souta and I were expecting a nasty brawl to emerge at any moment, Ken got up from the table and walked over to the living room. He grabbed the newspaper and hid his face behind it. I thought it wise of him to just walk away. He never liked fighting with Sayuri. The only times he did were when it was absolutely necessary, like the one occasion he dragged her out of their friend's home because a group of drunkards wanted her to play Russian roulette with them at a party they attended.

Sayuri was beyond angry at this point, banging her fists on the table and yelling: "You better come over here and eat, you bastard! You weren't the one slaving over a hot stove all damn day!"

Our eyes averted from Sayuri to Ken, who was still quietly reading the newspaper. Sayuri got up and marched over to him, tearing a huge section of the newspaper out of his hands and stomping on it. Ken stood up and pushed her out of the way to retrieve the torn section of the newspaper from under her high heel. Before he could swiftly pull it out from under her feet, she attempted to impale his hand with her heel, to which he quickly restrained her from doing.

"Let go of my foot!!" she roared.

Ken took his hand off her ankle and immobilized her by tying her arms around her back. It looked like he was arresting her. Sure enough, when he turned her around to face him, her hands were cuffed. In one swift move, he rendered her arms motionless.

She could only wriggle and writhe in protest and scream to be set free. Ignoring her fierce, desperate cries, he pushed her onto the couch where he was previously sitting and firmly commanded her to ''behave''. His attention shifted to us, still sitting in our chairs with frowns on our faces, waiting to be nourished.

Ken took pity on us and served us a larger quantity than what Sayuri would give us when she was in the mood for serving dinner for her children. We ate in silence as he sadly looked at both of us with sympathy.

" 'M sorry bout yesterday," he murmured under his breath. He was looking at Souta, who was wolfing down his noodles, too starving to notice. But I did. I stopped eating and gazed at him. His lips were curved into the perfect frown, and his eyes looked heavy.

"Then why did you do it?" I whispered to him, while Sayuri iterated and reiterated her demands to be released. He turned to me with those gray eyes of his and whispered back,"Because I don't like it when Sayuri is angry with me. It hurts."

It was then I realized that Ken had a heart beneath his icy exterior, only appearing when he felt remorse, which wasn't very often.

After dinner he practically shoved us into our rooms and trotted downstairs to deal with the wrath of his wife. I also realized why Ken put us to bed early every night.

It was to save us...from her.

* * *

During the course of the night I could hear groaning and the shuffling of the covers. Either this was one of Sayuri's sleepless nights, being a chronic insomniac, or Ken was making up for what he did to her through intercourse.

Accepting the second possibility, I droned out the noises with ''Angel of the Night".This was the name of a music box given to me by my grandfather on my 4th birthday, whom I never met. It's a pink box that, when it opens up, a ballerina with glittery angel wings spins around and the whole box lights up from it's magical properties.

In a letter, he cautioned me to take special care and be very delicate with it, because it was worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. It was a week after my 4th birthday that I found out he had given me an Hikari artifact as a present.

''Angel of the Night'' plays only one song. An Italian song called ''Canta Per Me", or ''Sing For Me''.The legend behind it says that the soul of an angel named Isabella is trapped within this box, and whenever she sings ''Canta Per Me'', it is her cry to be released. If you sing for her, her soul will be unsheathed into the sky and fly to heaven. If you don't, then she simply will remained trapped in the music box.

In order to free her I would have to sing the song correctly, and I'm not very adept in the Italian language. I've tried to free her on many occasions, but couldn't get the song right. The worse part of it is that the only one who can free her is the person who received the box, and not my grandfather, who, coincidentally, is fluent in italian.

I came to the conclusion that he is just as heartless as my parents are, and grew to despise him. Who was heartless enough to trap a poor, innocent angel in a music box for the sake of their own entertainment?

I fell asleep when the clock struck four. I went to bed angry with myself because I had only two hours of rest before Sayuri's hideous waking call would start my day, and angry at my parents for groaning and shuffling the covers practically all night.

Sayuri was definitely not suffering from her "chronic insomnia" as she once told me when I complained about not having a peaceful night's rest. She had a very eventful love life, but obviously because of my youth, she did not inform me of it.

It was Saturday. My parents were at it again--their favorite sport--gossiping. Today, they were talking trash about my grandparents. Whenever they were gossiping, Souta and I were usually present. They always gossiped in front of us, knowing that we would not tell--unless, we _liked_ getting beaten.

Souta and I sat quietly in the living room, pretending to be interested in our toys, when we were actually listening closely to their conversation:

"She hates me, you know. I don't know why she's coming tommorrow. It's simply senseless." said Sayuri. "You know why don't you?"

"Hn?" he arched a brow and waited for her answer.

"You know the Hikari's don't favor women. They prolong the curse."

"Mm."

"She originally wanted a son. When she came to the hospital for the ultra sound and found out her child was female--well...Hideki said a nurse had to restrain her because she had grabbed a needle and was threatening to stab the doctor."

Ken chuckled and shook his head in amusement.

"She was really in one hell of a predicament. She was married to another man before Hideki came around, and her previous husband had given her syphillis. She took medication during her pregnancy so I wouldn't contract it, but by the time she had given birth to me, the doctor informed her that she had just entered the stage of the disease where it rendered her sterile. My father was already dead by then, so she had no one to unleash her wrath on but me."

"I don't understand...how would a kind man like Hideki ever want to marry such a monster of a woman?" he asked.

"Well, he is generous, but that's his problem. He probably took pity on her because she was a single mother who couldn't have children. That happens quite frequently nowadays, kind people wedding tyrants."

In this conversation, I couldn't help but think that my parents were ignorant to their _own_ predicament. Ken was probably a nice man before he met Sayuri, and now it seems that, just like Hideki, he wedded a tyrant.

The similarities between my grandparents and my parents were interesting. Sayuri had her tubes tied after Setsuko's birth, and my grandmother is sterile. Ken had to restrain his wife from doing many stupid things in the past, just like Hideki had to keep his wife from killing the doctor. My grandmother hates Sayuri, and Sayuri hates me. Mother and daughter relationship is still the same.

"Any who, those geezers are coming tommorrow. Best to not fight while they're around."

"Feh. You bitch and scream in public and now you're telling me to "not fight while they're around"?" Ken snapped.

"They'll both be dead soon enough, so spare them." Sayuri said sharply.

They finally noticed we were eavesdropping. Souta and I picked up our toys and rushed up the steps to our sanctuary.

Ken shouted up the steps, "Remember to dress _presentable_ for your grandparents tomorrow! Souta! Don't come down here tomorrow wearing that stupid thief garb! Rio! Don't come down here with messy hair! We're Hikari's, not peasants!"

We shut the door behind us. I hoped that our grandparents would offer some temporary protection from Sayuri and Ken's injurious tendencies, and from the look on Souta's face, I knew he wished the same.


	3. The Curse's Fury Begins

_Chapter Three: The Curse's Fury Begins_

_Rio, age 7_

Today is my birthday.How wonderful to be basking in my grandparents sympathy.To ''celebrate'', they going to come over today.The only problem?

We're Hikari's.

The way an Hikari views a birthday is dramatically different from how anyone in the world views it.To an Hikari..

A birthday is a year closer to death.

Ken taps Sayuri's shoulder.

"What is it?" she asks.

"You haven't really forgotten, have you?"

"Forgotten what?"

"Why your parents are coming today."

Sayuri scoffed,"Now don't try to pass _Hideki_ as one of my parents.My father is dead.Hideki is not related to me, so--"

Ken sighed."I can't believe you've _really_ forgotten.You've gone so far as to forget your own child's birthday."

Sayuri stays silent for a moment.

"Which one?"

His eye's widen."I can't believe you! It's Rio's birthday!"

She was unaffected by the news.It struck me hard to know she could truely care less.Souta rubbed my shoulder.

"Don't worry.I remembered it.Happy birthday, I love you." he said with a weak smile.

I returned the weak smile and nodded as I struggled to fight back tears.I couldn't understand myself.Sayuri beat me practically all the time, called me every name in the book at least once, and never had anything nice to say to me.But the fact that she went so far as to forget my birthday just...

I hate her._I hate her!_

No.I don't want to think about this.Next subject.

I haven't heard from my grandparents since my 4th birthday.And now they're coming over.Besides our room, Souta and I will have extra, more reliable protection from Sayuri and Ken.At least I hope.

_Ding Dong_

The door bell sounds through the entire mansion.Ken walks down the hallway to get the door.Souta bites his fingernails and gulps.He's wearing a 200 suit bought especially for this day.I smile triumphantly as I adjust the puffy sleeves of my white dress.

_Ding Dong_

"Son of a bitch," Sayuri groans as she stomps her heel on the floor.

That's right.She can't touch us so long as they're here.She said it herself. _"Best not to fight while they're around."_

I can hear another sound of the door bell.She can hear it too.

The bells of judgement.

Ken flashes a worried look at Sayuri, and she stomps her foot on the ground in impatience again.

"Open the damn door!" she whispers.

Ken closes his eyes as if he's about to let a pair of beasts into our home, and hesitantly obeys.

What is revealed to us is a wrinkly old woman who, judging by the look on her face, doesn't look like she's having a good day.She's sitting in a wheel chair, and the old man behind her is holding the handles of her chair with a wide smile on his face.

Ritsuko and Hideki.The latest prodigies of the clan.They are the oldest living members ever in the history of the Hikari dynasty.In our family, with our poor fortune, an Hikari was rumored to have been touched by God if they lived to be atleast _30._

So she is the one whom Sayuri was talking so bitterly about yesterday.She has her stringy greyish-white hair wrapped up in a bun like her daughter.There's too much poison on her face.Her eye brows are thick and course.Her skin is blotched different hues of peach and white, and the disgusting skin of her neck hangs lazily off the bottom of her chin.

The odd one holding the handles of the wheel chair with the peculiar smile on his face is Hideki.His hair is white and bowl shaped.His appearance was so much gentler than his wife that he actually looks approachable.

He married into the family after Sayuri's birth, a poor unfortunate soul longing for a wife and a family.Opportunity presented itself in the form of a grouchy woman who's faith in men had disenegrated and her disturbed, ambivilent child.

I found it unfathomable that so many years had passed and he stayed loyal to her.Ken once suggested that he did so because he knew the family history, and he didn't want to leave her all alone.

"Hello, Ritsuko, Hideki," Ken says with foreign enthusiasm,"How are you today?"

Hideki strolls his wife inside and happily exclaims,"Great.Being old isn't as horrible as I thought it was when I was young."

Ken humors Hideki with a hearty laugh.Sayuri approaches them with the same annoyed look on her face as Ritsuko.

"You were young a long time ago," Sayuri glowered, not caring to shield her hostility.

Hideki didn't acknowlege her insolent comment and continued his conversation with Ken.

"So, I hear--"

_"You!"_ Ritsuko bellowed, pointing at me."Have you no manners? Come here, girl! You too, boy!" she growled.

Souta flinched.I gulped and grabbed his hand, dragging him down the hall toward this fearsome old hag who was our grandmother.When she felt we were at a good distance, she yelled,"Stop!"

We obeyed and abruptly halted.Hideki smiled and sauntered her to us.This woman was too close to me than I wanted her to be.She studied me with a piercing glare for a while, and reaches for my left pigtail.She slides her hand down the shaft of hair and slowly pulls out one blue strand.

She stares at it for a moment and shouts:

"Sayuri!"

Sayuri scoffs and drags her feet to Ritsuko's wheel chair.

"What?" she says sharply.

Ritsuko slowly turns her head to Sayuri, who is standing beside her with her arms crossed, issuing her own glare at the old woman.

"What is this?" she croaked, displaying my blue strand for Sayuri's study.

Sayuri's fingers tighten around her self, and she scowls under her breath.

"Dont ask me--"

"I didn't ask you to bitch about it! I asked you what this is!" Ritsuko said angrily, waving the blue strand infront of her face.

"It's a _hair!"_

"Yes.It's a hair," Ritsuko confirmed, clenching her fist around it.

"Now, is it wrong of me to assume that you have been treating your children abusively?"

Sayuri went rigid.I underestimated how much power Ritsuko could wield over Sayuri, and her amazing observational skills.Just that one blue strand told her that 3 days ago, her daughter almost ripped all the hair off my scalp?

"Yes." Sayuri gritted her teeth.

That simple word was pretty bold of her.Then again, anything she does is bold.Besides Mrs.Mizaki, Ritsuko is very well aware that she beats us.I only wish she would just admit it.

Ken massaged his temples and sighed."For the love of.." he trailed off.

Hideki's eyes widened in worry.Attempting to change the subject, he intervened.

"Well, I must say, we should get to know your children better!" his attention shifted to me."Rio! Oh, little Rio! I haven't talked to you since you were 3!"

"Four," I corrected.

"Right." he nodded and gave me the same warm smile he wore when he entered.

Sayuri started for the kitchen."I'm going to get some wine."

"Oh, I don't drink," said Hideki.

"Well, you're going to pretty soon." she said in a commanding tone.

Behind everyone's back, Ken shook his head and said something under his breath.Ritsuko slumped back in her wheel chair and discarded the hair with the flick of her hand.

Hideki was obviously grateful that an ensuing fight had been stopped, and said merrily,"Hey, last time I saw Sayuri, she was pregnant.Where's the other one?"

To which Ken replied,"Kayako is taking care of her.I'll go get Setsuko." With that, he walked down the the corridor to our right, alligned with thick black pillars.

"Last time I saw Sayuri she was fat." Ritsuko laughed hoarsely at her own not-so-funny joke.

"So that's where Setsuko was last night," Souta whispered to me.

"Yeah, maybe--"

"What's your name?" Ritsuko asked Souta.

He jumped from her cranky voice and stammered,"I-I'm Souta."

"Souta, eh?"

She crossed her arms and licked her disgustingly dry lips."Your stupid mother should've taken more time naming you."

I couldn't help but be amused at her disposition.She was definitely Sayuri's mother.It was easy to see where Sayuri got her cruel behavior from.

He tilted his head in shame and looked away.She lifted up his chin with one long, slender finger.

"You look just like Ken.How predictable."

"Yes, he does," Hideki agreed."You'll grow up to be a very handsome young man."

Souta timidly smiled and looked down at the floor again.

Sayuri reemerged with 3 wine cups and a bottle of red wine tucked under her arm.

"Well, the family's all here.I'd prefer not to stay sober." Sayuri said.

Hideki chuckled and took a wine glass from her hand."I'll try some."

"You'll be drunk in no time," Sayuri forced her self to smile and seem somewhat friendly, which I could tell was difficult on her part.

He chuckled again and nodded.

"Augh, I'm not going to spend one more day getting intoxicated.I did when I was your age, and look what happened to me!" She banged her fist on the wheel chair and glared at Sayuri.

Was my grandmother actually implying she got herself pregnant while in a drunken stupor? I bit my lip and struggled not to laugh.

Ken returned with little Setsuko holding his hand and smiling.

"Hello!" Setsuko squealed with delight at the newcomers."Mama told me you were coming!"

Ritsuko looked amused."What's your name? Hope it's better than your sibling's names.God, Sayuri doesn't know how to name her children!"

Souta and I exchanged suprised glances.I stared at my grandmother in awe as I realized that this woman knew no fear, even around my _mother_.She knew no respect either.And just when I thought there was no one more vicious than Sayuri.I wouldn't be suprised if _Krad_ was afraid of this woman.Even if she didn't know someone, she was quick to degrade them.Setsuko obviously didn't understand the concept of insults.

"I'm Setsuko!"

As for Sayuri, I could tell it took her every bit of restraint in her body not smash the bottle of red wine over her mother's head.In a matter of minutes, Ritsuko proved to me that there were crueler people than her daughter.

Ritsuko smirked."I want to spend some time with my grandchildren, Hideki."

He nodded in approval."Of course."

Ken spoke up. "Why don't I take Ritsuko and the children to the study room? They can socialize there, and--"

"We can get drunk here." Sayuri rudely interrupted."Come, Hideki, let me show you the dining room."

Sayuri looked behind her and at Setsuko, then to me and Souta.She didn't want us together, but there was nothing she could do while our grandparents were present.She couldn't explain to her confused parents as to why she keeps Setsuko away from us, unless she wanted to degrade herself and provoke Ritsuko again.

Hideki let go of the wheel chair and followed Sayuri while Ken took over and strolled our grandmother to the study room.The room was well lit by a six-light brass chandelier from the Victorian age.At the edges of the room there were built in bookshelves, filled to the brim with old and tattered books.Ken told me once that some volumes dated back to the 17th century.

Round tables were sitting at random places, with 2 or 3 piles of books on each one.In the middle, a 18th century french gothic fireplace added the gloomy ambience to the Hikari study room.Judging by the cobwebs in the corners of the cieling, this place hasn't been used in quite a while.

"How come I've never seen this room before?" I asked Ken.

Before he could answer, Ritsuko interrupted someone for the 3rd time this afternoon."Probably because you were too busy hiding upstairs in your room from Sayuri."

She laughed hoarsely once again.

Ken rolled his eyes and answered,"There's so many rooms in this mansion that I never got around to showing you."

He walked out and left us with Ritsuko staring at us with her translucent eyes.

"So...Setsuko, Souta...and...?" she looked at me for confirmation.

"Rio." I said plainly.

"_Rio?" _she repeated in disbelief."Are you serious?"

"Yeah." I clenched my fists.

"Now don't you get pissy with me! I was just asking your name!" she looked at Souta."And you! Why so quiet? Are you mute?"

Souta shook his head."I was taught not to speak unless spoken to."

"Hm." she sat back in her chair and adressed me again.

"Listen, I know Sayuri did something to you.You have a pink spot on your head.This boy's lip is swollen.Don't tell me she beats you and let's you go to school with your bruises!"

Since she already knew what our parents do, I decided to confess."Yes, she does."

"Tsk, tsk.If it were up to me, I would be taking care of you.You would be homeschooled, and you'd have your own personal servants." she smiled, thinking it would appeal to us.We weren't homeschooled, but we'd rather be going to school than staying at the Hikari mansion all day.As for the servants, they are entitled to do as we say just as much as they're obligated to follow Sayuri and Ken's orders.

We had a personal servant that had the keys to the forbidden rooms of the mansion.Souta and I could manipulate him just as much as Sayuri or Ken could.Among him, there were others who slaved to our will.There was one house guard who we often told to get icecream for us.We didn't know his real name, so we just called him the ''icecream man''.Point being, we had servants, we were already being educated, home or not, and we already had a ferocious woman ''taking care'' of us.

Neither of us replied.

"I can only imagine what your life is like.When your mother was a child I beat her too, but not as viciously as she beats you.You two must be defiant."

Setsuko rebuffed her remark in Sayuri's defense."Mommy doesn't do that to us."

No, Setsuko.Mommy doesn't do that to _you._

Ritsuko motioned with her finger for Setsuko to come closer.Setsuko obeyed.When she was within reachable distance, she analyzed her.Grabbing her by her face, she tilted Setsuko's head this way and that, imbibing every aspect of her appearance.When she was done, she released her grip.

Setsuko rubbed her face and frowned.

"Hmm..." Ritsuko smirked,"Well, I can see who's Sayuri's favorite out of this bunch.Girl hasn't a mark on her."

Souta glimpsed at me for an instant, and I knew he was thinking the same thing.Not only did Ritsuko know that we were abused, she also knew why Setsuko remained untouched and why she was oblivious to her sibling's harsh treatment.There's only one way Ritsuko could know all of this.Her behavior manifested in Sayuri.

I felt disheartened.My hopes had been crushed.How could Souta and I expect protection from a woman who was worse than my mother? The very woman who _made_ Sayuri into what she is today?

How could we expect escape from a man who clearly submits to his wife out of fear, just like Ken? Suprisingly, the Hikari clan is a dominated by women.

It was then I made a decision that I vowed to stick to for the rest of my life_.I _will defend myself_.I _will be my own santuary.I will protect Souta.I won't depend on anyone else besides myself.

"Run along and play." she said as she shooed us."Best enjoy your childhood while you can."

I wanted to stay there and study the expression on her face, but Souta grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the study room while Setsuko skipped merrily after us.

We entered a lengthy corridor filled with house guards.Some of them were laying on the floor, sleeping, and others were playing cards and conversating to one another.When they caught sight of us, they paniced and resumed their positions against the wall.I guess they were afraid we were going to report their behavior to Sayuri.She was the one they really feared.If they got fired, they would lose the best job in all of Tokyo at the time.People were paid massive amounts of money to work for the Hikari family.The house guards alone were paid 150-245 an hour, based on how many years they had dedicated themselves to guard duty.

One word out of my mouth to Sayuri, and they're lives would be destroyed.She would fire them without hesitation.Thousands would line up to fill in the empty space in our hallways.

I reveled at how much power I wielded over them.Souta giggled at how scared they were when they saw us.Setsuko tried to console one of the frightened guards by saying sympathetically:

"What's wrong? Are you sick?"

"No, no, I'm not s-sick," he stammered."Hey.." he cupped Setsuko's ear with his hand and whispered,"Your not going to tell your mom are you?"

"No!" Setsuko squealed, giggling."Your voice tickles!"

She rubbed her ear and smiled at him.The guard took a deep breath and leaned against the wall.

"Thank goodness."

"Yeah," said another guard with a deeper voice,"This is all I got."

The first guard nodded in agreement.

Souta nudged my shoulder."Icecream?"

"Oh, sure."

Souta ran up to a maid who happened to walk past us and tugged on the frilly hem of her dress.

"Yes, Master Hikari?" she said softly.

"Can you get us icecream? Chocolate for me and two vanillas.Sprinkles." he commanded.

The house maid nodded,"Yes, sir."

She trotted off while I couldn't take my eyes off Setsuko.This is the closest I've ever been to her.While Sayuri was present I wasn't even allowed to make eye contact with her.But now the friendship of another sibling besides Souta was in my grasp.I ran up to her.

"Hey, do you want to play a game?"

"Sure!" she said in childish delight.

"Okay, let's go--"

I was going to tell Souta of our plan when suddenly, someone's light fingers tapped my shoulder.I turned around to face the old man Hideki, with that same annoying smile.If Sayuri had no dignity (not that she had much to begin with), she would gladly slap that expression off his face.

"Hello, birthday girl.Seven years old, right?"

I nodded.

"Your face is wierd!" She pointed."It's all wrinkly!"

Not only did Setsuko not understand the concept of insults, she didn't comprehend the shame of saying things that were uncalled for.I guess in Setsuko's sheltered life, she had never been exposed to a senior before.

Hideki laughed it off."Well, when your old, your going to look like this too!"

Setsuko clapped her cheeks."Oh no! I'm going to have a wrinkly face?"

"How old are you?" Hideki asked her.

"I'm 6!" She presented six of her little fingers to him, showing him that she knew how to count too.

"Oh, that's wonderful." He said.

I thought it was wierd.Six years old? She was only one year younger than me? I acted so mature and defiant.She was bubbly and oblivious.She seemed more like a toddler and I a teenager.We're so different..

I knew so little of Setsuko's life because she lived separated from us.I never understood why Sayuri would favor a _girl_, of all her children.She said it herself.

_"The Hikari's don't favor women.They prolong the curse."_

Hideki interrupted my musing by calling Souta's name.

"Souta! My little boy! And how old are you?"

"I'm eight."

"Eight? What did you do for your birthday?"

"Nothing."

"Why?"

"I didn't know I was eight."

"...What?"

Souta sighed and scratched his head."I didn't know...that my birthday passed.Ken told me that I was eight _after_ my birthday..like he just remembered."

"Why..? You don't mean to tell me he actually forgot.." Hideki stood there, puzzled.

"Rio, dear, don't you have any presents? A cake?"

"Why would I have that? It's just my birthday." I said.

His eyes widened like I just stuck up my middle finger at him.He couldn't believe that our parents would forget our birthdays.But to Souta and I, this was expected, normal, even.Souta and I were oblivious to birthday rituals.Cakes, presents...any form of celebration in general was foreign to us.Maybe he should stop asking questions.If he doesnt, he'll faint when he asks Souta about Christmas...

"I cannot _believe..._" he trailed off and reached into his pocket."But _I_ have a present for you!" he shook his closed fist in triumph.He grabbed my hand and placed the present inside.

I opened my hand and stared a golden angel wing necklace.The wing was embedded in diamonds.The necklace glimmered in all it's beauty.

"It's an Hikari artifact." He whispered."Up until this very moment, no one but _me_ knew it existed."

"Why?" I inquired.

"Because..._I'm_ the one who created it." He smiled.

Souta gasped."Really?"

"Yes," said Hideki, not leaving eye contact with me,"It's for keeping out..._you know who."_

I didn't ask him to elaborate, in fact, I didn't have time to before he unhooked the necklace and swung it around my neck.He secured it, and grabbed Setsuko's little hand and walked away.

"Come on," he said, "Let's go into the study room and talk.Wouldn't want you to get lost in this endless mansion of yours!"

What an odd man...

* * *

"Who's 'you know who'?" Souta whispered from underneath the blankets.

It was bedtime.We were snuggled up in our covers, talking to eachother.Although I was in a warm bed, comfortable and talking to Souta, I couldn't ignore the pain in my chest.

Before Ritsuko left with Hideki, she looked back at me one last time, then frowned and shook her head.She looked so heartbroken.I stood there, waving goodbye to her, wondering if I did something to upset her.Maybe Hideki told her that our parents ignore our birthdays and that the only reason my 7th birthday was recognized was because they were the only ones who didn't forget.Or maybe she was taking one last look at the ''pink spot'' on my head and she felt a hint of sympathy.

That wasn't the only reason I was in pain.Setsuko walked off the moment they left with Sayuri.She then told Setsuko to go with Kayako.I didn't see her again after that.

"I don't know."

Souta narrowed his eyes and clutched the blanket tighter."Is it a monster or something...? 'You know who'.."

"I don't know." I reiterated.

Our door was closed, but we could hear small whisperings on the ground floor.Souta sat up and looked at the large double doors of our room.

"They're talking." He said.

I sat up too and tried to hear, but I couldn't.I'm not sure why I felt the way I did, but I had the distinct feeling that something was wrong.

I trotted to the door and tried to hear through there.

"Maam, there's been a..."

"...serious..?"

"...not him...?"

"..he was a guard.."

"...the safe? Ridiculous..."

"Alright."

"...thank you, goodnight.."

"Augh! I can't hear!" Souta wined, his ear to the door."Open it."

I opened the door a tiny crack.A ray of light seeped through our dark room and settled on my music box.Souta sat next to me, and we were still for the longest time.

The door slammed.

Silence.

Someone laughs.Sayuri.She's laughing.

"Aha ha ha ha...Isn't this funny, Ken?" she said coyly,"Ha ha ha...oh...what a dream come true, hah ha."

"Sayuri!" Ken said in disbelief."What is wrong with you?"

"You won't believe what just happened...ha ha ha..." Sayuri covers her mouth to silence her giggles.

"I heard something happened with them."

"Yeah.Something happened." Sayuri titled her head and smiled.

"What is it?"

What she said next made Souta gasp and cover his mouth, and my stomach dropped.

"Finally that bitch is dead.Too bad her husband went with her."

"What?! Sayuri! You were laughing at that?! Your parents are fucking dead!"

"_My_ parents? Was Ritsuko, that demon of a woman, ever my mother? I couldn't tell!" Sayuri exclaimed sarcastically."Hideki was _never_ my father."

"Oh, for the love of..." Ken shook his head and massaged his temples."Please, please...stop talking..."

"Policeman was just here.Turns out one of their guards didn't have the best intentions in mind, and convinced some of the others to kill the guards who were protecting the safe."

"Oh my God..." Ken sighed and squeezed his eyes shut.He didn't want to hear anymore, but he wanted to know.

"All of them refused to give up the comnbination.As a result of their loyalness, every last one of them took a bullet to the face." Sayuri continued.

"So...one guard rounded up an army and killed all the house guards?"

"No, only the ones who were protecting the money." Sayuri shook her head.

"Did your parents die in the gunfire?"

"No.Those bastards broke into their bedroom and demanded that they give them the combination or die.Hideki was going to give them what they wanted to protect his worthless wife, but of course Ritsuko, blinded by ingnorance and pride, told him to keep quiet.That she'd 'rather die than succumb to a bunch of criminals', one of the neighbors said they overheard her say."

Ken gasped.

"And now, because of their stupidity...well, they're both dead."

_They're both dead...They're both dead..._were the only words echoing in my mind.My grandparents are dead.The first and last time I ever saw them was my 7th birthday.

_They're both dead..._

And they died on _my_ birthday.

"Rio? Rio? Are you okay?" Souta shakes my shoulders."Rio?

* * *

Please review.If I have any problems with grammar or spelling, tell me so.Any one offer to beta?


	4. The Bogeyman

_Chapter Four: The Bogeyman_

I sat at the bottom of the staircase, pondering my predicament on a gloomy Sunday morning. After Sayuri's alcohol induced joy over her parents demise, I became detached from myself for a while. Not only myself, but Souta, who suffered in silence.

Dreams of Ritsuko and Hideki haunted me. During the day I wanted so badly to see them again, so at night I dreamed recurringly that the police had informed Sayuri that they had survived the gunshot wounds.

Day after day I would walk aimlessly through the mansion, musing to myself. I felt as though someone was pinching my stomach really hard when I thought of Sayuri laughing that night. I couldn't get her indecent giggles out of my mind. Sometimes I pondered the boundaries of her cruelty.

Her mother must have done unspeakable things to Sayuri in her youth, so terrible that she would rejoice at the news of her death. On many occasions I thought of asking her why she was so happy they were gone, but I decided to keep my mouth shut.

Ken seemed detached from reality as well at times. For a few days he didn't hide his face behind the newspaper. He would set the day's paper on the table, staring at it blankly. His eyes didn't indicate he was reading at all. They wouldn't trail across the page like they usually would. Other times he would not even read the newspaper.

Instead, he would sit on the couch and sip wine, getting lost in the ceiling. He wasn't the type of man that would sit around and do nothing. But it kind of made me feel a little better to know the recent deaths of my grandparents had an impact on him too.

Sayuri's disposition remained unchanged. She still paraded the hallways with her high heel shoes every morning. She still mistreated us just as she had before. I found it inconceivable that she could remain this way. No matter how much she hated her mother, couldn't she have shed at least one tear? Couldn't she have spared one frown for her?

I decided to confront Ken on the matter.

"Hey," I said, tugging at his tie, "What's wrong with her?"

He pulled his tie from my grip and glared at me. "Don't pull it."

"Aren't you sad?"

"Sad..? You mean about..." He looked over to Setsuko, who was within close range of us. "Them..?"

"Yeah. Ri--" Ken covered my mouth and told me to be quiet. "Don't say anything about them when she's around, you understand me?"

I pushed his hand from my mouth and stuck out my tongue in disgust. I wiped off my lips with my dress sleeve. "Yuck. Don't give me your germs!"

Ken rolled his eyes. "Kayako!" He shouted.

Kayako ran up to him the moment her name was called, and bowed to him. "Yes, sir?"

"Take Setsuko into the next room."

She obeyed, leaving us alone. Seeing my opportunity, I reiterated, "What's wrong with her?"

"Nothings wrong with Setsuko."

"No, _Sayuri_." I corrected. "Why can't she be sad?"

Ken sighed and shook his head. "This may sound crazy, but there's nothing _mentally_ wrong with her, she's just mean."

"Mentally?"

"Yeah. That means in her head." He tapped his head.

"Why can't she ever be nice? She--"

"Look at it this way, Rio. Sayuri didn't exactly have the best childhood growing up."

"What do you mean?" I inquired.

"I mean...in a world full of hostile people, the only way she could survive was to become hostile herself. It was a dog-eat-dog society when she was young. She's this way so that these people can't hurt her."

"She's only mean to people that are nice to her. I never wanted to hurt her," I lied.

"That's beside the point. What I mean is that during her girlhood people were not very nice. Now run along and...do something." He motioned me with his hand to get going, and I walked away annoyed.

My assumptions, from what Ken told me, seem to be correct. Ritsuko had beaten Sayuri when she was young. Even Ritsuko herself admitted it. As for the other aspects of the 'hostile world' she lived in, I knew nothing.

My thoughts shifted from Sayuri to Setsuko, who probably didn't know that her grandparents are dead. But with Setsuko's sheltered life, she might not even know what death _is_.

Sayuri is so protective of her. I highly doubt she would ever bring up the fact that a human life doesn't last forever. Sayuri may have trapped Setsuko in a delusional Utopia, but as for Souta and me...

This misery is all too real.

* * *

Ken and Sayuri later retreated from the mansion and into the city of Chiba, where a massive ball was being held for all the rich Japanese art snobs to socialize. After they were gone and we were free to do what we wanted (our parents liked to assume the house guards would actually care what we did), I wanted to escape for a while.

I fetched Souta from his room and we went outside the mansion. As it turns out, I was not the only one who was detached. Souta would barely speak to me.

"Hey, Souta," I waved my arm in front of him, "Are you alright?"

He looked down at the ground and slowly swung his head from side to side. "Is it something I did?"

He shook his head again.

"Was it something Ken told you? Are you sad because..."

"I liked grandpa.." He uttered slowly, picking at the dirt with his fingers. "He was nice."

I rubbed his shoulders. "I know, I'm sorry. Do you want ice cream?"

"Uh-uh."

"Um...we could go with Kayako and she can take us to the park! We can take Mrs. Cat and play museum!"

Souta didn't seem too excited, which was disheartening. "Okay."

We went back in the house and asked her, but it was hard to get her to allow us.

"I don't _think_ so!" Kayako snapped, slamming her hand on the table. "I don't want that woman on my back!"

"That's so unfair!" I whined.

"On the contrary! It's perfectly fair! You two won't get beaten and I get to keep my job. Everyone wins."

"Na-uh. Nobody wins if they don't get what they want. Souta's sad. Just take us to the park, please?"

"Was that supposed to be something new to me? It's always something with this kid." she said as she rolled her eyes at my depressed little brother.

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

_"No."_

"Please!" I cried.

Kayako pouted and shook her head. "Do you have any idea how lucky I am? This is the best job in all of Japan, and I don't want to lose it."

"No it's not, the house guards get paid more than you."

"Shut up!" she stomped her foot on the ground. I giggled at her.

"Fine!" she got Setsuko from the other room and we walked out the door.

It took us forever to reach the gates, the land was so vast. Besides the meadow, outside the Hikari mansion was a seemingly endless forest, filled with ominous owls, flitting butterflies, scampering squirrels, and dozens of other wildlife.

Even though it was broad daylight, the sun's rays had a hard time penetrating the thick trees above us. The light was in a form of dull rays of yellow shining through the crevices of the trees branches and every jagged edge of the leaves.

Souta clung to my arm apprehensively. "A-are there bears here?"

"Nonsense. The bears are scared of your mother." Kayako laughed.

Her insult reminded me of what Ritsuko said when I asked why I had never set foot in the study room before. With her memory came Sayuri's intoxicated, mocking laughter. And with her laughter came that same deep sadness. I can't believe they're really gone. I only met them once. And did they _have_ to die on my birthday?

My dark recollections were interrupted by the sound of Setsuko's squealing laugh. She ran up to a guard and gave him an unexpected hug. The guard on the other side of the gate smiled at her and commented on how cute she was.

I felt a warmth inside me knowing that she was so full of love and was willing to give it to anyone, despite the fact that she had never met the man she was hugging before. Maybe meeting new people was what she loved the most because Sayuri forced her into a reclusive life.

"Aren't you tired when you stand here all day?" she asked the man.

He laughed and patted her head, "It's a little tiring sometimes, but it all pays off in the end."

"How come?"

"Because in the end, your safe and sound." he smiled and pinched her cheeks.

"Yeah, she's safe and you get 250 at the end of the day." Kayako mocked, "Open the gates."

"On whose orders?" The other guard inquired.

"Sayuri's."

"Bull. Rio told you to do that. If Sayuri knows Rio and her brother are with Setsuko, she's gonna be pissed. And you know what happens when she's pissed? Who are the first people she's gonna fire?"

I was secretly annoyed at how much power Sayuri wielded in this place even in her absence. They acted as though she was an omniscient being and could sense that we had disobeyed, even with a lack of evidence. Couldn't I have my way just this once?

"Oh comon, Souta's sad." Kayako whined, mimicking my plea.

"Who cares?" The other guard said. "We're all miserable. What's a little misery compared to two-fifty an hour?"

The guard Setsuko was hugging intervened, "Be nice. They're just kids. They may be rich, be they don't get treated like children should. Look at that kid's lip." he pointed to Souta, who looked down in shame. "Can't they have at least an _hour_ away from their house?"

The other guard thought for a moment. Kayako sighed in impatience. Setsuko frowned and said, "Does this mean we have to go home?"

Both of the men looked at each other as if they telepathically decided something. The first man pressed the button and the gates slowly swung open, freeing us from this house of pain. I sighed in relief and ruffled Souta's hair.

"Now we can play," I said.

Kayako grabbed Setsuko's hand and threatened, "I swear, Rio, if I get fired I'll punch you so hard you'll fly into next week!"

I smiled as I had gotten the desired result. We exited the gates, where a servant was prepared with the handles of the rickshaw in his grip. He nodded to us, and we boarded. He picked up the poles and ran all the way to the park. Setsuko cheered him on, yelling, "Run! Run! Run!"

Whenever we came too close to another rickshaw or a car, she gasped and told the man, "Look out! We're gonna crash!" The man didn't take his eyes off the road and let out a hearty laugh. I felt for the poor man, especially since human-driven rickshaws have been illegalized in Japan, and Sayuri in all her power and money, found a way around the law. She hired this man to parade the streets with this obsolete mode of transportation just for her sick enjoyment?

My thoughts had transferred to what Kayako had said to me, and it was so incomprehensible I actually walked to the park trying to think of a logical way a person could be punched so hard they would travel through time. Souta seemed confused too, because when we arrived at the swing set he mumbled, "Fly into next week?"

Setsuko ran into the sandbox and frolicked with other children's sand castles, much to their dismay. She even made a four year old cry. I walked up to her and sat down on the bench of the sandbox. "No, Setsuko, the children don't like that."

She took her attention off of a toddler crying over her destroyed sand castle and replied, "Children? I want to have a baby! I want to have a gazillion of them! I'll feed them and put them to bed and give them stuffed animals and...and.."

"You know what you're children are going to look like?" Souta asked.

"Ummm..." she put her little fingers to her mouth and thought. "They..uh...are going to have blue hair?"

I turned to Souta and examined him. He had the sleek black hair that laid flat against his head. He didn't need to do much with it, it was already attractive. His dark blue eyes was the one special thing that set him apart from the rest of the children, who usually had brown eyes. His appearance was unique to me and I thought of how wonderful it would be if my son came out with the same smooth hair and the deep, soul-searching, observant eyes Souta had.

"I hope my children look like you." I whispered. Souta turned to me and gave me an unexpected smile. Not only that, but the ocean blue had returned to his eyes. I had accomplished my mission.

He came up to me and hugged me. We embraced each other for a long time. Some of the parents sitting on the benches went "Awww.."

Setsuko became jealous and shoved herself between us. "Hey, I want a hug too!"

We granted Setsuko's wish and engaged in a group embrace. I glimpsed over to Kayako, who was smiling at us. Then I imagined Sayuri screaming at her at the top of her lungs, disgracing her for allowing Setsuko to socialize with us. I decided that since I had gotten what I wanted out of Souta, now was the time to go before Sayuri got back from the ball in Chiba. I asked to leave, and we all got into the rickshaw and sped off to the mansion.

Fortunately, we arrived home just before Sayuri and Ken returned. Sayuri obviously came home drunk and delirious, and Ken had to carry her into her bedroom. Setsuko asked her if she was sick, but she just replied with an incoherent murmur.

Ken then went downstairs and read the paper while smoking a cigar. Souta and I watched him as his face became fogged in puff of smoke. Kayako, who was about to retreat to her bedroom, looked up at us from the staircase. She smiled again and winked her eye.

* * *

The hallways are quiet. Even the guards on night shift duty don't make a sound. The entire house is covered in blackness. Some paintings are subtly noticeable on the walls. They look frightening in the dark.

I try to ignore the fear, but it keeps creeping up my legs, making me itch in different places. I'm too scared to scratch. Something doesn't feel right. I don't see why this night would be different from any other, but I can feel that it is.

I can feel Souta's warm back against mine, moving in and out to the rhythm of his breathing, but even that isn't compensating for the fear. For a few minutes, he takes in low amounts of air, softly grazing my back with his. But then his breathing stops. I can feel the bed vibrating.

When I press up against Souta harder, I know it's coming from him. He's taking in large amounts of air now, and he's shivering. He could be having a nightmare. Or he could just be cold. His shivering seems...frantic. Is there something on the other side of the bed that he's staring at? Is there a monster here?

Suddenly, the room seems brighter. I can see more paintings come out of the shadows. Did he turn on the light?

"Stop it.." he whispered, his voice shaking. "G-go away.."

What am I doing? What does he mean go away? Is there someone in here? I sit up and look at him. He's awake, frightened and staring off into the distance. The light disappeared as soon as I sat up. I shake his shoulders and try to snap him out of his scared trance.

"Souta, are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?"

Souta gasped and burst into tears. "I saw him!" he cried, "I saw him! He's inside!!" He grabbed me and held me tight, crying into my nightgown.

"Who? Someone's inside the house?" I rubbed his arms to try to calm him down, but it wasn't working. He must've had a nightmare, because there is no one here except my brother and me. But then that doesn't explain the retreating light..

"I-I-I s-saw h-him.." He stuttered, sobbing louder. "He's h-here.."

"Who?! Who's here?!"

His pleading sobs refueled my fear that a stranger may be lurking in the shadows. Though it was highly improbable that someone could infiltrate the mansion considering the hundreds of thousands of security guards standing against the wall with a deadly weapon.

"...You-know-who..." he whispered, clutching the pendant Hideki gave me before he died.

For the next few nights afterward, Souta's night terrors became more prevalent. He began to wake up screaming in the middle of the night, clinging to my gown and yelling over and over again, "He's here! He was here again!"

The next night, I kept my back close to him to monitor his breathing. It was almost unpredictable to tell when he would start panicking, because the light would come afterward. I was baffled. I did everything I could to console him: keep the light on, lull him to sleep, sing to him, hug him, kiss his cheeks and tell him funny stories. But the end result was him always waking up a frenzied mess, crying that he was going to die.

I once again took the matter to Ken, who in turn, stupidly told Sayuri. This happened at the dinner table.

"Night terrors?" Sayuri questioned bluntly, taking the wine glass from her lips. "And who is he dreaming about?"

Ken motioned her to come closer, and she leaned over so he could whisper in her ear. During the hushed answer to her question, she pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. "Great," she growled under her breath.

Ken took his mouth away from her ear and scratched his chin suspiciously. As a woman I understood everything from my girlhood, but when I was young I understood very little about the world around me. Back then, I dismissed Souta's night terrors as simply a normal phase of childhood, as I had suffered from nightmares just as anyone else has.

But Sayuri and Ken knew full well the real reason for Souta's late night behaviors, and had him do the most peculiar things to alleviate the symptoms.

For instance, Sayuri would have him take daily trips to the cemetery and even spend the night there if he did not improve. Other times Ken would hold Souta still as Sayuri cut into his arm with the kitchen knife and bled him.

I watched in horror as Souta went through this extreme suffering all because he was having nightmares. Many times I would run up to help him and be accidentally slashed with the kitchen knife trying to save him. After the failed attempt to retrieve him from Ken, Sayuri had the house guards restrain me.

When Souta was with me, he was weak and frail from his cemetery episodes and the horrific bloodletting procedures. Over and over I asked him to fight back when they did this to him, but he would say that if he did, "It would hurt even more, and that man would be there at night."

I would ask him who this man is, but he was too frightened to even utter his name.

After a while I noticed Souta's horrific episodes would cease whenever I woke up. Souta noticed it too, and began to see me as a temporary escape from the "horrible man". The light would flood our dark room, eerily illuminating it, and Souta would begin to cry and beg this unknown entity to leave him alone.

It wasn't until I pondered on the light I saw before he would wake up from another nightmare that I knew who it was. Krad. The bogeyman.

* * *

Okay, just a few things here...I haven't updated this story in a while because the ideas for this story originally came to me in fragmented pieces of the major events. I find it increasingly difficult to put these events in a sufficient place in Rio's time line. I also figured out that I didn't really want this to be a Gothic fic, but I seem to accomplishing that nonetheless.

I don't want readers to think that Rio has a dark view of life, because I originally conceived her character to be that of a true protagonist. The do-gooder, the tortured main character, the considerate and kind woman that is no stranger to pain.

I apologize for the dryness of this chapter. I wanted to make this story subtly realistic, and I perceive reality as a force that isn't rushed and descends into chaos slowly after certain events. Wow...lots of big words...anyway, I hope you liked. The next chapter will take a sudden turn for the worse so that this fic can get moving along into what I like to call the ''juicy'' parts.


	5. The Bells Of Judgement

I apologize because there is a bit of naughty language in here, since Sayuri isn't a very moral person, as you may have already realized. She says a few things in here that aren't very nice. Yet again nothing she says is nice. Enjoy reading. : )

* * *

_Chapter Five: The Bells of Judgment_

_2 years later_

_Rio, age 9_

I had grown a little taller. Sadly, my breasts were still absent, when I wanted them so much. My hair was much longer than it was when I was seven, and I decided to stop wearing pigtails and try wearing my curly hair down. I didn't like the end result. My loose spiral curls would bounce whenever I moved, and my hair was unbearably thick. Souta would compare me to a porcelain doll at times, and compliment me on how beautiful I was. His compliments only strengthened my love for him, but I thought there was nothing beautiful about a girl who usually walked around in public with a bruised face and frizzy hair.

My temperament had changed as well. Instead of being outspoken and insolent, I became more quiet and withdrawn. I begun to fear Sayuri more than I ever had before. When she yelled at me for sneaking into the forbidden East Wing (where all the dangerous Hikari artwork was kept), I would do nothing but simply glare at her, as opposed to when I was seven and younger: I would argue with her and occasionally, if she got me angry enough, I would pull her hair. I no longer did that because in these proceeding years Sayuri's tactics had become more brutal than I could've possibly imagined. Last year, a few days after I had turned eight, Sayuri and I had gotten into a horrible fight.

I had fought with her because whenever my birthday would come around, I would relive the horrifying memory of hearing Sayuri's laughter echo off the walls when the policeman had given her the news that her parents had been slaughtered by their own house guards. That day, that empty feeling returned to me, so I locked myself in my room and refused to come out. Our parents had a ball to attend, and the rich couple who were throwing it recommended the guests take their children with. When Ken came downstairs and informed Sayuri that I was being "difficult", she stomped up the stairs with her annoying high heel shoes and threatened to break down the door if I didn't come out.

If I could travel back in time and just simply open the door I would, but I stubbornly refused. Outside our room, there was a knight's armor on display with an axe in the right hand and a sword in the other. Sayuri grabbed the axe and to my horror, started breaking down the door, just as she said she would. She dropped the axe and broke into my room, grabbing me by my hair and dragging me out.

Souta tried to run up the stairs to aid me in my defense, but Ken restrained him. Setsuko couldn't believe her eyes. The woman she knew and loved didn't have such a nasty temper. Realizing that Setsuko was seeing a side of Sayuri she should not have been exposed to, he ordered Kayako to retrieve her.

Sayuri dragged me by my hair all the way to the front gates, slamming me on the dirt and kicking me in the ribs. I courageously stood back up and tackled her, managing to rip some of her hair out. Her nails dug into my arms so deep I bled, but I was consumed with fury and had no other thought in mind but to inflict harm on her. She pushed me off of her and swapped at my neck, probably wanting to strangle me, but I dodged it and took off her right high heel, attempting to stab her with it. The guards at the gates grabbed me and shoved me behind them, yelling at her that I was just a child, and asking her if she'd lost her mind. Sayuri stood still for a moment, and glowered at them with so much hate I was afraid she was going to strike them. Instead, she tilted her head and said:

"Who do you think runs things around here? If it isn't me it certainly isn't any of the worthless bastards sleeping against the wall with a gun in their hand."

The first guard spoke up, his voice trembling. "Please, Mrs. Hikari, she's just a child."

"And your point is?"

Both of the men simply gaped at her, confused and terrified that I was eligible for a beating regardless of how old I was. Her lips pursed into a cruel smile, and she crossed her arms. Just a few more seconds of staring them down and they would crack. This job meant everything to them. If they lost it, they would have a hard time supporting their families.

"It's against the law to abuse children." the other guard said bravely.

Sayuri put a hand to her mouth and giggled. That same laugh she used when she found out her parents were dead. My stomach tightened into a knot and I growled in frustration. Was everything a joke to this woman?

Abruptly, her giggle had turned into a serious frown and she was glaring at them again. "Well, you know what? Here, I _am_ the law."

The first guard opened his mouth to say something, but she intervened.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear," she said in a dangerously low tone, "If you want to keep your reputation, your jobs,_ and_ your estate, I advise you to not defy me."

The two guards shook nervously from her words, but still kept me safely behind them.

"If you want to resume you duties as guards of this mansion, I suggest you give her to me now."

The first guard gulped, and reluctantly, let me go. Before the second one could protest, Sayuri interrupted with a sudden burst of anger.

"Now if any of you sons of bitches got anything else to say, now's the fucking time!" she screamed.

Both of them stayed silent and resumed their positions against the wall.

After that horrible episode at the front gates, Sayuri made sure I was beaten senseless before we arrived at the party. While at the ball, I was timid and reserved, and didn't say a word. I couldn't speak because the inside of my mouth was bleeding, and if I opened it I was sure one of my teeth would fall out on my palm with a coat of blood-stained saliva. I could hear the rich women near me gossiping, even making eye contact with me at times. Sayuri could simply care less: she was sitting with Ken at one of the dining tables, drinking wine and getting more intoxicated by the minute.

A few hours later it got to the point where Ken was slurring and couldn't walk properly, so we had to go home. Despite being drunk, Sayuri strutted down the steps perfectly without a single misstep. Setsuko mimicked Ken's drunken movements by groaning and dragging her feet lazily in the dirt, keeping her head down, which was exactly what he was doing. Sayuri smiled at her as if she were proud of what she was doing, and I finally started to take notice that Setsuko did no wrong in Sayuri's eyes. What I couldn't fathom was why Souta and I were wrong all the time, and therefore deserved to be dealt with so viciously.

There was also another occasion where I was caught manipulating Kayako to get Setsuko to play with Souta and I, and Sayuri walked in on us. She glowered at me and told Souta and me to come outside. My stomach dropped at the mention of my brother's name. Souta gasped and shook his head, pleading with tears in his eyes not to be hit, but Sayuri was merciless.

"You're going to go outside before I drag you out! Move!" she roared.

We both stepped outside, and she led us to the back of the building where the darkest part of the Hikari mansion was. It was in ruins, with moss hanging from the destroyed ceilings and the cracked pillars covered in poison ivy and the like. It was the darkest section because it was supposedly the place where the Original Hikari summoned the spirits of darkness to quell his selfish desires and cursed us all. There was a tattered table in the middle of the room, with the old spell book he used. The power of summoning the spirits must've destroyed the building.

Sayuri used this scary atmosphere to her advantage in punishing us. She ordered us to turn her back to her, kneel down and not make eye contact with each other. Souta and I shivered on the hard marble floor, blowing away dust with our frantic breathing. It sounded like Sayuri was shuffling the rocks for something. When she found what she wanted, she yelled at us to stop whimpering like scared little children and shut up. That was hard to do seeming as we _were _scared little children, waiting to be tortured. Sayuri then began whipping us with thick vines of poison ivy. This went on for 2 hours, and by the time she was through, our backs and legs were covered in dried blood and stinging at what seemed like hundreds of small gashes all over the back of our bodies. When I stood up, I could feel more of my skin ripping, and the new wounds bled over the old ones, increasing my pain. I had to help Souta get up. He was limp and lifeless on the floor, and I started crying at the thought that he was dead. But when I checked his pulse found out he was breathing, I knew the pain was so great he fell unconscious.

Afterward, Souta became mute and refused to talk to me for a week. He would only stay in his room and lay on his bed.

His night terrors seemed to have faded in this two year period, and it didn't seem he was affected by Krad's presence. In fact, it seemed Krad himself disappeared. When I would go to sleep at night, I would wake up to a bright golden light and Souta's screaming. It seemed the cemetery episodes and the bloodletting had somehow got Krad to leave for a while. Ken warned him that it was normal for Krad to appear from time to time "just to bother his tamers", and then go through a dormant stage for a while, but to be vigilant because Krad would gain the ability to use his body when he hit 14, so he should keep up his defenses.

A week later when Souta decided to talk to me again, he was still withdrawn and reclusive. I cannot describe in words how grieved I was that he had been turned into this person, but still managed to profess his love for me and be there for me. It would break my heart to see him suffer at Sayuri's cruel hands because of me pursuing Setsuko's company or dragging him along with me to the forbidden East Wing. So, in fear of him getting hurt, I stopped seeing Setsuko and I ceased my trips to the East Wing. Although Souta's mood was improving because of my decision to heed Sayuri's demands, keeping away from my sister proved to be a mistake I regretted with all of my being.

* * *

One night, Souta and I were laying next to each other on the bed. This night was different from any other because we were not drawing, nor playing, nor complaining about family life. He just rested his head on my shoulders, gripping the pendant Hideki gave me before he died.

"I'm afraid." he said in a whisper.

I turned to him, cupping his cheek with my hand and rubbing it with my thumb. "How come?"

"I've been having dreams of him."

I knew he meant Krad. I stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. It frightened me that what Ken said regarding Krad's dormant stage might not be true. Souta was distressed enough, having to live in constant fear of his parents and an malicious entity living inside him. Not only was he estranged from his own family, he was estranged from his own body. A being that clearly did not belong inside him was there, watching his every move, waiting for the age of reckoning. The day when it would finally be decided who was worthy his body.

"In my dream..." he clutched the pendant tighter, "He was there."

"What was he doing?" I asked worriedly.

Souta frowned and dug his head into the crook of my neck. "I'm not sure..what he was doing.."

"How can't you be sure? Is it because you can't tell?"

Souta shook his head. "No..it's not that..."

"Then..?" I clutched his hand. "Don't be afraid, Souta."

"I dreamed...that he was standing in front of a giant bell.."

"A giant bell? What was he doing?"

"Nothing." he muttered, "Nothing. He just stood there...and it was ringing. Ringing and ringing...I can still hear it.."

"Souta, why does this make you afraid?"

He looked up to me with gray eyes. "Sayuri was in it too."

This didn't sound good. The two people Souta feared the most, reappearing in his dreams night after night? My heart sank and I felt like crying. I wanted so badly to help him through this ordeal, just like I had promised him when I was six years old. But I didn't help him through his night terrors, I didn't help him through his terrifying nights in the cemetery and the bloodletting procedures. Did the dream mean something was going to happen to him? And would I be there to stop it?

"What...was Sayuri doing?" I gulped and waited for his answer.

"Nothing." he murmured. "She was sitting on the floor...with someone in her hands."

"What did they look like?"

"I couldn't make them out. It was too dark. But Sayuri was talking to that person."

"Did you hear what she said?"

He sighed. "No. I couldn't. The bells were too loud."

His recollection of his dream was making me queasy and uncomfortable, so I decided to put us both to bed. I grabbed the blanket near me and cloaked us both up to our necks. I kissed him on his forehead and he snuggled closer to me, still clutching my pendant. I fell asleep thinking about Hideki, triumphantly exclaiming that he didn't forget me like my parents had, and he had a present for me. I dreamt about his face. His wrinkles that Setsuko ridiculed him for, his grey, deep set eyes, filled with sympathy when Souta told him he didn't know he was eight until after his birthday. I must've stared at his bushy eyebrows and his bowl shaped hair for the longest time. I imagined him stained with blood from his wounds as he placed the gold angel wing necklace in my hand and smiled at me. The last things he ever said to me repeated in my head again and again.

"_But I've got a present for you!"_

"_Rio!"_

"_...Birthday girl..."_

"_It's for keeping out..."_

"_...You-know-who.."_

When I woke up from my unsettling dream, I peered over at Souta, who's soft black hairs and bowl shaped head only stuck out a little bit from the covers. I pulled down the blanket to study his face. He was peaceful, undisturbed, unharmed. But his dream bothered me, even more so because I could not interpret the meaning. The "ringing bells", Krad and Sayuri's presence in his dreams, and the person Sayuri was holding all puzzled me. I wanted to dismiss it, but something inside told me not to disregard it at first like I had done when Souta was having nightmares.

* * *

I tapped my pencil on the desk as I eyed Souta next to me. His looked terribly nervous. What worries me even more was that his eyes have been gray for the past 3 days since he first told me about his dream. He must still see Sayuri and Krad in his head, hearing the groaning of the bells over and over again.

The teacher wrote multiplication problems on the black board, and the sound of the chalk scraping against the board seemed to make Souta tense. I rubbed his shoulders and asked if I should ask the teacher if he can go to the nurse's office, but he feverishly shook his head and started to bite his nails. I couldn't understand him. What was making him so nervous? Could it be what Ken told him a about Krad a while back, or Krad himself? Something was stressing him out and I desperately wanted to know what.

"Souta, please, if there's something wrong I--"

"Rio Hikari." the teacher called, setting the chalk down and folding her arms. "Since you're talking instead of writing these problems down on your paper, you can answer the first question."

She picks up the chalk and presents it to me. I groan and look back at Souta, who's still fidgeting with his nails. I approach the blackboard and stare at question number one: nine times eight. In my girlhood math was my worst subject, and usually Souta would take pity on me and give me his answers. If it hadn't been for his generosity, I would've repeated every grade up until now. I sighed and pursed my lips in a frown, as I did not know the answer.

"It had a seven in it, I'm sure..." I murmured to myself, recalling Souta writing the answer to this problem before on my paper. I cursed myself for not being able to recall the answer and gave the chalk back to the teacher.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know." I whispered, embarrassed.

The other students around the classroom shook their heads and leaned over to every other student, telling them how dumb I was. One girl giggled and said to another boy, "This girl's a retard."

The boy burst out laughing, and some of the other students followed. I sat back down in my seat with a flushed face and a angry conscience. How I wanted to punch them all in the head..

The teacher shook her head at me and rolled her eyes. It was really comforting to know even the teacher thought I was stupid. Souta looked down at the desk, obviously embarrassed at what I did. Since I'm his sister, I made him look bad too.

"It's 72, Rio." he mumbled, placing his hand on his chin and trying to ignore our jeering classmates.

Walking home, I felt it proper to apologize for degrading him in front of everyone, but he didn't seem to want my apology.

"It's fine." he said, without looking at me. I stroked the strap of my book bag, biting my lip and wishing I could go back in time and just pay attention to the teacher instead of worrying about Souta's state of mind all the time. We walked down the sidewalk, where a park was adjacent to it. I lost my trail of thought from the laughing children, helplessly thinking they were still laughing at me because of what I did in class. I sighed and looked down, taking sudden interest in the pavement. Souta startled me by shaking my shoulders and pointing to what was ahead of us. I looked up and saw a blue-haired girl walking towards us, waving. No, that couldn't be who I thought it was. That wasn't our sister. But then again...why wouldn't she go to school? She doesn't stay in the house all day, I know that much. Sayuri hasn't the patience to home school her. But why was she walking toward us?

I suddenly felt fear settle in the pit of my stomach. If Sayuri knew we were together, something terrible might happen. And I can't allow Souta to suffer anymore. We should just avoid her. But wait a minute..

What is that she's wearing? It's not the white school shirt and blue skirt I'm wearing. Setsuko has a completely different uniform on. Her garb looks familiar, but I just can't place it. Where did it come from?

"_Is that an Hikari, papa?"_

Souta looked at me with a surprised expression on his face. "Rio! Setsuko goes to school with that Niwa girl we saw!"

I felt a jolt of shock through me. Sayuri defied her own words.

"_Hell will freeze over the minute an Hikari goes to school with a Niwa."_

Now why in the world did Sayuri say that if she didn't mind Setsuko attending the same school with this Emiko girl? Maybe she said it because she didn't want us to know which school she went to. Or maybe she didn't care. No, that can't be it. Sayuri despises the Niwa's with a passion, even going so far as to blame them for the rivalry between Krad and Dark.

"_It was all the Niwa's doing,"_ she said bitterly to Ken in one of my memories, _"They're the ones who started all this shit.."_

Setsuko approaches us and merrily exclaims, "Souta! Rio! I'm so glad I found you!" She hugged us both and giggled.

"How do we get home?" she asked.

Souta's worried expression returned to him. "Uh...Setsuko.."

She averted her attention to him and smiled.

"Doesn't Sayuri pick you up after school?"

She thought for a moment. "Uh huh! But, I didn't want to wait." She hid her hands behind her red skirt and grinned innocently.

"I think Sayuri's going to be mad, Setsuko." I said, "You shouldn't wander around. We're going to get into a lot of trouble. If she knows, Sayuri is going to hurt us. I-I m-mean.."

Souta's gaze and mine locked. He mouthed, "What did you just say?"

I felt ashamed. I didn't want to mention Sayuri's injurious ways in front of Setsuko, who never thinks anything bad about her, and shouldn't because she'll be happier that way.

"_Maybe it's better this way...if she hang around us, then she won't act like us..."_

Setsuko shot me a look of disbelief.

"_Then she won't get beaten like we do..."_

"Mommy doesn't do that to us." she said, shaking her head. "How come you guys call her by her name and I call her mommy?"

Souta gulped and looked at me, expecting me to answer. Though I would never let her know, Souta and I called her by her name because she simply did not deserve such a title of affection. To call her "mommy" or just simply "mom" would indicate that either Souta and I had affection for her, which we did not. I don't know how Souta would feel about it, but I could care less if Sayuri died tomorrow.

I deliberately ignored her question. "Alright, we'll walk home together."

Luckily Setsuko seemed to have forgotten her question or wasn't that persistent for an answer. "Okay!"

We wait until the light turns red, and Setsuko smiles when the light makes a transition from green to yellow to red. We were ready to cross the street, but for some odd reason Souta was unwilling. I grabbed his hand and told him we had to go, but he said, "No. Wait for Sayuri."

I sighed and decided that it would be the smarter course of action to heed his words. I think we would get beaten for letting Setsuko walk home with us. We'll be lucky if Sayuri doesn't hurt us just because we are breathing the same air as Setsuko and standing next to her. I held Setsuko's hand just for the sake of holding it, because I had the distinct feeling something was not as it should be. I began feeling a slight discomfort in my belly. A few minutes passed and the feeling started to intensify. I became annoyed. What is this? Why is my stomach so upset?

I grabbed my head, suddenly feeling a throbbing pain. "Oh, Souta...I don't feel good. We have to go."

Souta stood firm. "No," he repeated, "Wait for Sayuri."

Setsuko grew impatient. "Mommy's never going to get us. We should just go." she pointed to the green light. "Green means go."

Souta shoot his head and reiterated, "I said no. Wait for Sayuri."

A group of kids behind us were playing ball. One of the children kicked the ball so hard it hit me in my bottom and bounced off into the street. I turned around and yelled at the kids, thinking they deliberately struck me with the ball. All but one kid was laughing at me. He nudged his friend's shoulder and announced, "Hey, look! That girl is getting our ball!"

Souta gasped. I turned to face the street and sure enough, Setsuko had let go of my hand and had ran into the street for the ball. A car was fast approaching.

Time itself seemed to slow down. Slowly, painfully slowly, messages were sent to my brain to move, to scream, to do anything. When I ran to retrieve her, Souta pushed me back and tripped, landing on me.

The car screeches and comes to a halt.

The children fall silent.

The swings stop creaking.

A small red ball bounces down the street and comes to a stop inches away from where Setsuko was standing.

But Setsuko isn't standing anymore.

Souta makes a breathless gasp and covers his mouth to keep himself from screaming. I stare in disbelief. This didn't happen. No, it couldn't have. She's not laying face down in the street. A pool of blood is not gathering underneath her.

She's not laying in the street in a pool of her own blood.

No. This can't be..

The driver of the car slowly opens the door, staring in horror at the atrocity he just committed. He steps out and approaches Setsuko, stupidly asking her if she's alive. I scream out Setsuko's name and grasp her wet body. Souta is in such a state of shock he cannot speak nor move. I whimpered and shook her, trying to get her to open her eyes. This can't be happening. This did not happen. Please. Wake up. Wake up. You can't be.

I held her trembling frame while hundreds of incomprehensible thoughts whirled through my head like a painful tornado. What Souta said to me just minutes before Setsuko was hit rings in my ears.

"_Wait for Sayuri."_

"_Wait for Sayuri."_

"_Wait for Sayuri."_

Suddenly I heard the fast approaching plunk of high heels on the pavement.

"_SETSUKOOO!!"_

A far too familiar voice screamed. Before I had time to react I was violently pushed aside, and Sayuri's figure came into view. She gasped and shook her daughter, yelling frantically at her.

"Look at mommy, look at mommy...no, baby, don't do this...please, don't go—No! Don't close your eyes!"

Setsuko groaned. "M-m-..."

"Baby, yes, what is it? No, no..stay awake, honey...God, please, stay awake!"

"M-mo...m-mom...mom-my...it really hurts..." Setsuko whispered. "It hurts..."

"Oh no..." the man said, cautiously approaching us, "I-I'm so sorry lady..." he slurred.

I ran up to her and stared at her in awe. She was alive. But how long would it be before...?

Sayuri trembled and look up at the driver with the greatest malice I have ever seen on a human being.

"You fucking..._bastard!! She's dying!! You hear me?? She's dying!!" _she cried hysterically.

The man backed away and tripped, falling down on the street. "I-I'm so sorry...I didn't..."

"_You fucking murderer!!_"

I stared at Setsuko and she stared at me...

for the last time.

It's going away. That light. Her once bright azure eyes are fading...right infront of me. With her bloody, scratched up face, she smiled at me and reached out for me.

"Rio...I'm so...glad..." she said very softly and slowly.

"No...no no...don't do this to me! Don't do this to me! No! Setsu--no, baby stay awake, stay awake, don't close your eyes!!"

Setsuko was always a good girl. She always did what she was told. She had such love for everyone. She loved everyone. And she wanted to make Sayuri proud of her, even as she lay dying.

Her gaze did not leave me. She was completely focused on me. "R-Rio...there's a m-m-man behind...you..."

I felt the warmth of a golden light appear behind me, but I could not take my eyes off of Setsuko.

"R-R...Rio..."

"No! Don't do this to me! Please, don't close your eyes! Oh, my baby...Setsuko..."

"I l-lo-love...you..." she said, her eyes wide and unwavering. The white in the iris of her orbs began to diminish. After that simple sentence, she layed her head on Sayuri's lap, her dead gaze still locked on me.

"Nooooo!! No! SETSUKO!!" Sayuri screamed.

Souta ran up to me and shielded me from Setsuko's mangled body. But I could still see her. I could still see her staring at me with that smile and her face. Those wide open arms, her last declaration of love.

Setsuko..

She's dead.

* * *

Okay, now this may sound mean, but I honestly hope I made someone cry. Or atleast want to cry, but held it back with difficulty. I was listening to James Newton Howard when I wrote this and I was about to cry myself. I poured my heart into this chapter and I really hope you liked it. The first four chapters were dry and a little uninteresting because I wanted to spend those chapters emphasizing the personalities and relationships between Rio and her siblings, so that way, when Setsuko's untimely death came around, I might make someone burst into tears. Please tell me it got some emotion out of you. Lol. : )


	6. The Soothsayer

_Chapter 6: The Soothsayer_

Everyone is weeping. Even Sayuri, the heartless beast whom I actually expected to laugh it off as she did her own parents. From the sky, we must all look like a black puddle about to devour a small wooden coffin.

Sayuri is clad in a slim black dress and her trademark black heels that any man would think attractive, had she worn it to a party. From above, it disgusts me that she appears as a beautiful weeping creature. Her sleek bangs blew about in the wind while soft, cerulean curls loosened from her messy bun and caressed her pale cheeks. Her eyes are deep and ocean-like, allowing the smallest of tears through it's ducts to drip onto her cleavage. The black, transparent veil hardly concealed her from the world. Her smooth hands and sharp nails are wrapped around a bouquet of red carnations. Her favorite.

Ken is dressed in his usual black business suit, with his hands in his pockets, nervously biting his lip. Studying the expression on his face, I come to the conclusion that he's afraid of crying at his daughter's funeral. His gruff beard is unwavering no matter how hard the wind is blowing. His eyes are a deep, pale grey abyss. Souta and him seem to have that in common; whenever either of them are under overwhelming emotion, their orbs shift to the same color. He's just as still as Ken, just as distressed as he is, yet he is not biting his lip. A layer of tears drowns the lining of eyes and overflows, running down his cheeks to his small pink lips. He tastes the product of his misery, as if to check if what is happening is real.

Besides the faces of my family members, there are so very many foreign faces. Every house guard in the mansion has attended, along with the housemaids and personal servants whom, despite living with them, I have never seen or met in my life. And who could possibly forget Kayako, the woman who practically raised Setsuko since she left Sayuri's womb? She is still wearing that same expression of utter horror and disbelief since she received the news. Her terrified stare pierces the coffin, and her teeth chatter and grit every now and again. Her fists are clenched and her face is brimming with tears.

Reality seemed hard to believe at first, as I had taken for granted Setsuko's smile as she bounced merrily about the mansion, hiding behind the shadow engulfed, archaic pillars of the mansion. She would wait until Souta or I walked by to jump out on us, and hopefully make us soil our undergarments. I found that my mind could not produce an image to my consciousness where Setsuko was non-existent, not running around the house or clinging to Sayuri or Kayako's hand. It was inconceivable. How could this be so? How could death so suddenly lead Setsuko's small form astray with him, holding his bony hand as she stands underneath his fearsome scythe?

A few children approach Souta and lay their hands on his trembling shoulders, and he cries as he becomes aware of their touch. I begin to recognize their faces, and I realize that they are not Setsuko's friends. They are our classmates. The cruel school children who's faces were always twisted into evil, jeering smiles. Now they dared to comfort him? Anger sweltered up inside me as I watched them say things like, "I'm sorry, Souta," or even utterly despicable things like, "Did you see her get hit?"

I crossed my arms and glowered at them. I stomped over to them and shoved them off, "Leave my brother alone! Stop asking those stupid and mean questions!" I blared.

Sayuri shot me an immediate glare, and I cringed and averted my eyes to the still, wooden coffin. I knew I would pay for this later. Souta layed his head on me, sobbing into my puffy black dress. My eyes darted from the sea of house guards, maids, classmates, and finally a small group of children whose faces I did not recall. They were clad in red school uniforms, a contrast to the garb Souta and I wore to school.

_They must be Setsuko's friends._

What almost forced a gasp from my throat was the sight of a little girl with short red hair, gazing into the coffin like all the other children. Emiko Niwa. A _Niwa_. How could Sayuri possibly allow her to Setsuko's funeral? What shocked me even more was that judging by her appearance here, she was actually friends with Setsuko. Why in the world would Sayuri allow this?

She is not the only person who I didn't expect to be here. Three familiar boys are standing near her.

"_Hey, look, that girl's getting our ball_!"

Not only a Niwa, but the children who witnessed...no, _caused_ Setsuko's death are standing here! Had Sayuri finally lost her values?

_The swings cease their creaking. The children fall silent. A small red ball bounces down the street inches from where Setsuko was standing. And from there, it all descended into hell. A vast multitude of shocked faces surround the sidewalk and the porches near the street where this little girl so swiftly lost her life. They are covering their mouths in terror. Two frightened and distraught children weep alone in a police car, their tears and the bright red and blue lights blinding their vision. A man down the street is taking photos of her. A frantic mother is shouting high into the skies, to the Creator himself, reiterating the same question. Why? Why is she laying there in a pool of her own blood?_

_The children who witnessed Setsuko's death ran away screaming. The man responsible sits weeping in his own cold vehicle, with various bruises and a broken lip from the fury of the crying mother. She attacked him before the police arrived. She had grasped a clump of coarse hair in her hand and attempted to smash his face into the pavement, but he threw her off before she could kill him and clumsily fled. The police were driving down the road at that time, and I assume that one of the neighbors who witnessed our sister's demise had alerted the authorities before Sayuri took justice into her own hands. I don't believe that if she killed him, she would eventually come to regret it. She always seemed to have an "eye-for-an-eye" mentality. _

_We are concealed in a cold blanket in this cold police car, wondering why reality can be so gruesome. Somehow I was warmed by the bright gold light as I sat there helpless in the blood-ridden street. My brother immediately dragged me to the sidewalk, writhing and crying hysterically. Souta and I were mortified beyond comprehension. His hands shook as he gripped my shoulders, laying his head on my chest and reiterating, "Oh god, I saw it, I saw it, I knew it was going to happen..."_

_And as Sayuri's cry intensifies, so do the tolling bells behind her._

The coffin slowly descends into the ground with Sayuri's favored flowers, the bouquet of red carnations. We did not have a wake because Setsuko's body was so damaged from the impact Sayuri could not bear to see her face again.

The mass crowd slowly walked away, and the parents of Setsuko's friends and our classmates were led to the exit through the forest. The maids returned to the mansion and the house guards returned to their posts. I glanced at Emiko, who glimpsed at me once last time before I lost her in the woods. Kayako, Sayuri, Ken, Souta and I remained near Setsuko's coffin. Sayuri reached out her hand to one of the men who had helped lower the coffin into the pit, and he handed her a shovel. She grasped it in her hand and sighed. She took off her veil and let it fly away in the wind. The man handed Ken another shovel. Then they proceeded to bury her. Souta resumed his sobbing and refused to watch. I studied the procedure attentively until the last heap of earth was thrown into the full pit. They patted the ground into place, and stood there still for a few moments.

Sayuri turned to Ken, "We should plant carnations here."

Ken licked his dry lips, "No, I don't think so. Carnations are _**your**_ favorite, not hers."

It seemed to me that it took a lot of self-restraint on Sayuri's part not to shout at him. She sighed heavily and wiped her forehead. "Well, she never told me what her favorite flower was."

His gaze didn't leave the disturbed soil. "How could she? You're not sentimental."

Sayuri remained silent. Was she finally feeling regret for being a horrible mother?

"But maybe Kayako knows." he peered over at the distraught Kayako, whose eyes were glued to Ken.

"I...well.." she started, sniffing and wiping her wet cheeks, "She once said to me that...she likes whatever her mommy likes." her voice broke and she wept silently.

Sayuri did not speak, and I interpreted it as a sign that Kayako's words profoundly moved her. Sayuri herself knows she is not worthy of any compassion or love from another human being, and the fact that this little girl loved her simply because she never knew the monster her mother really was.

"Carnations, then." she simply replied, meeting Ken's eyes. He rolled his and looked away from her. "Let's hurry up and get this done. Those damn reporters are taking pictures at the front gates."

* * *

A few weeks passed, and Souta and I finally decided that we should return to school before our misery consumed us completely.

Souta got up from bed as usual, enveloped in his morning trance. I brushed through my rough curls, immediately envying Sayuri for having thinner and more manageable hair than I did. I inherited nearly all of my physical aspects from her, but I seemed to have inherited Ken's course hair. I think of him standing at the little wooden coffin with his thin beard.

I take out my long forgotten school uniform and slip on my blue skirt. I dust it off and put on my shoes. I rub them until they look shiny. My "little black shoes"...

"Are you getting dressed?" Souta drowsily asked, not facing me.

"Yeah, don't look until I say."

He slowly nods and I take off my shirt. Compelled by habit, I stared at my forming breasts. I squealed in delight. I had been overtaken by the notion of becoming a woman like Sayuri since I was 5. Secretly, her physical aspects intrigued me. She had a full, perfectly shaped bosom that I envied. Her hips and her long legs were attributes that I hoped I would have one day. When I had the body and the mind of a woman, I could break free of this dark hellhole and leave my childhood behind. When Souta became a man, he could let go of his childish fears and pursue his own dreams, whatever they may be. I could not wait.

Satisfied, I slipped on my shirt and reveled at the thought of one day wearing a bra. I seemed to forget Setsuko's early demise, and the thought didn't really come to mind until Souta and I were walking down the steps with our book bags slung over our shoulders. Before I could reach the door, my hair was jerked backward by a familiar hand. I stumbled back and fell, rubbing my sore scalp. I looked up and met the gaze of none other than Sayuri.

Her hair was messy and strewn all over her face. Her eyes, a glazed fire of blue. She slowly spewed smoke from her mouth like a beautiful dragon as she tapped the butt of her cigarette with a slender finger. Her other hand was wrapped around her robe, pushing up against her round breasts. She tilted her head and said in a low tone, "You're not going to school anymore."

I was struck by her words. How could I possibly not go to school anymore when every child does? And more importantly, why? In these proceeding weeks following Setsuko's untimely death, I had not done one single thing to upset her. I had stayed confined in my room with Souta most of the time, weeping. She had no reason to be angry with me like she is now. Doesn't she despise me? Wouldn't she want me to go to school, just for the sake of not having to acknowledge my pitiful existence?

"Why?" was the only word I could utter, though I wanted to spurt out so much more.

Her lips purse into rigid frown, and she bends down to my level, flicking the fiery ashes of her cigarette at my face to frighten me. I flinch and wait for her to slap me across the face. But to my surprise, despite our close contact, she does not. Instead, she blows the acrid smoke into my face and makes me cough. I waver the grey fog away, and she grasps my face by the bottom of my chin.

"You let go of Setsuko's hand." she murmurs.

I gasped. "No! I didn't! I d--"

She squeezed my lips shut and shouted, "Shut up!"

Souta was terrified. He tried to assist me, but at the sound of his dropping book bag, she bore into my frantic orbs and said, "Don't you dare."

I knew she was not addressing me. Souta obeyed, much to my relief. He stepped back and bit his lip, trying to fight his tears. "Rio.." he whispered.

I would rather have him submit to this beast than be overtaken by her. It's horrible enough that she is pinning the burden of murder upon my back. But as much as I try to convince myself that I am not responsible, the darker side of my consciousness informs me that I did indeed release Setsuko's hand, thus enabling her to run into the street and get hit by an impending car. But was it really my fault? Am I really to take the blame for her end?

"If you hadn't.." she began, exhaling through her nostrils and releasing a cloud of smoke, "She wouldn't have ran off into the street and _died_. You better get used to these hallways. You better start to remember every single room in this place. Because you are going to _rot_ here."

She released my red face, leaving me there with the horrible smell of smoke and a trembling Souta. She firmly strutted down the desolate hallway with the irritating tapping of her high heels stabbing my ear drums. She thinks I killed her. She thinks I let her die. And now she is going to destroy me because of it.

After much persuasion, I got Souta to attend school, though it touched me that he didn't want to leave my side. As soon as he returned, I told him that if Sayuri will not allow me to leave the house anymore, he should teach me what he is taught at school. That way, despite the fact that I cannot go back, I will still be following the curriculum.

Though he was effectively teaching me spelling, vocabulary, and even multiplication and division, I still felt a profound emptiness in me. I actually missed Mrs. Misaki's accusing stare. I actually longed for the cruelty of our fellow classmates. I wanted to color with my own crayons again. I wanted to make paper mache hats and go on school field trips. Instead, I constantly dealt with lonely morning hours and recurring notions about my role in Setsuko's death. Had I really allowed her die? I know that if I hadn't been distracted by the children in the park, I could have possibly prevented her death. I could have jumped in front of the car and sacrificed myself. Am I truly accountable?

As Souta reviews our multiplication problems, we come across the flash card that bears the memory stirring problem: nine times eight. The chalkboard. A nine. An eight. An "x" between them. I couldn't remember the answer. Hours later, I was staring in horror at her mangled frame.

I sigh hopelessly, "Seventy two."

"Good." he nodded, and shuffled the cards to commence another round. He must not remember that problem on the blackboard that day. But it's alright. It's better if he doesn't anyway. Does anything really matter anymore? No matter what happens, I'll always be confined in this gloomy, ghostly place. Living here would be more bearable if Sayuri turned on the lights every now and again. But that's not very likely. She prefers the dark, and Ken doesn't seem to mind. As for the house guards and maids..well, they can complain at the cost of their jobs.

_Night Time.._

Souta's voice echoed in my mind. Why hadn't she waited for Sayuri? Why didn't she wait? This is all my fault. I let her die. If only I hadn't taken my attention off of her...she would still be alive. Why did she let go of my hand? Didn't she understand the consequences of putting herself in front of a moving car?

"_The bells were too loud."_

The bells? That's right. Didn't Souta have a dream concerning Sayuri? She was holding someone in her arms...and the bell was ringing behind her...

As much as I didn't want to, I revisited that horrible day. Before her gaze died, she mentioned someone standing behind me.

"_R-Rio...there's a m-m-man behind...you..." _

I felt a warmth too. I felt a warmness behind me...but my eyes were glued to Setsuko's dying gaze. There was a man behind me. Who...?

Krad. He was behind me? No! That couldn't be. Souta isn't able to transform until he comes of age. Why would Setsuko see him behind me?

I glimpse at "Angel Of the Night", and it occurs to me that it could've been any angel. Ever since Souta's night terrors, my belief in paranormal entities was strengthened. What if Setsuko saw an angel before she died? But no other face is etched in my mind but Krad's. His fierce gold eyes, his tousling gold tresses, his cruel smile. I had never seen him before, but my mind insists that is what he looks like. And my mind insists that he was the man Setsuko was referring to.

Oh God...Souta dreamed this.

I cover my mouth in terror. He _**dreamed**_ this. He knew all along. He _**knew**__. _Why hadn't I listened? Why did I let Setsuko's hand slip away from my grip? Why? I could've stopped this. I could've stopped it. She didn't have to die. Good God, just like my grandparents. She's gone. No, no. Why did I let go? I could've prevented this..

If only I had the courage to push her out of the way. If only I had died for her. Why didn't I sacrifice my self?

"_Hey, look, that girl is getting our ball!"_

If this didn't happen..I could vividly imagine her giving the red ball to the boys who accidentally hit me. She would giggle and walk away, possibly pester Souta about leaving because "green means go". Then Sayuri would suddenly appear out of nowhere, and scold us for being near Setsuko. But she can't breathe anymore. She is cold now.

I turn my head over to stare at Souta, who is asleep. His black hair is shielding his eyes. His face is stained with dried tears. All he does is cry now. Cry in silence. He hardly ever says a word. Sometimes he'll just spend his days in bed, pondering why he is allowed to live for letting such a terrible thing happen to his sister. He was her guardian. He told her to wait for Sayuri. Why didn't she listen? Was she driven into the street, to stand before the speeding car in a daze, like a moth to the flame? Did these bells, these groaning bells, and Sayuri's weeping over her dead child mean that this was meant to happen? Could I have done anything to stop this?

If Setsuko were alive, she would be laying on Kayako's lap now as she sung her an old Japanese tune.

If I had the will. If I had the power to react in time, I would've been the one who died. And Setsuko would be alive now. Sayuri would be the one laughing.

I slide my finger over Souta's brow, lifting some strands of jet black hair from his face.

"Souta..." I say, "It's all my fault. I let go."

I feel a jolt of shock in my belly as his eyes flutter open, his grey orbs releasing a withheld tear as it slides down his cheeks. "It couldn't have been anyone..." the following words were choked out from his tears.

"What..?" I gasp, desperately wanting to hear his voice again.

He gulped and closed his eyes, preparing himself. "It couldn't have been...anyone...other than her."

"What do you mean?"

He slides his hand under the covers and grasps my pendant. "She was the only one who was supposed to die that day."

"What...what are you talking about?" I said, aware of the tears streaming down my own cheeks.

"The bells were ringing...for a reason." he rasped. "It was meant to happen. She had to die. If you had saved her at that moment...she would've died some other way minutes later. And you would have lived."

I stared. "Even if I was the one who was hit?"

He grimly nodded. "If you had saved her a hundred ways, she would've died a hundred other ways. It was meant to be."

He buried his face in my chest and tangled his fingers in my curls. I layed on the pillow, and suffered from the haunting memories of my sister.

A red ball. A pool of blood. The sound of high heels against the pavement. A dying gaze. The slurring man. The red and blue lights. Blurred vision. A small wooden coffin.

* * *

Three months. A period of silence. The guards don't really talk anymore. They no longer slouch against the walls, conversing about family matters and the like. They stand now. The guns are firmly in their hands, and they are waiting for an attack. But what is there to wait for? Are they waiting to die? They practically waste their lives standing against that wall. No one would dare rob us.

As for Kayako, the saddened soul..it's hard to find her around the house anymore. Sayuri can usually be found in the meadow, gazing into a certain patch of carnations. I can't believe I am even thinking this, but I actually feel a slight sympathy for her. The beast has finally been silenced.

Ken is in the study room, staring at the cobwebs. Is Ritsuko's voice echoing in his mind? I last saw her walk out of those doors, and she never came through them again. I only saw Setsuko once that day, and like Ritsuko and Hideki, I will never see her again. They buried her in a red carnation patch. Now she is only alive in my memories, frolicking about in the meadow, jumping into the red carnations. She is joining the soldiers underneath the ground. They covet her company. Who better for death to snatch away than an innocent little girl, who effortlessly makes anyone smile? She will do the soldiers reverence.

I'm sitting on the floor of my bedroom, staring aimlessly at the ceiling, pondering everything from Setsuko to my meaningless life.

"Rio..." he whispers.

I turn around. "What?"

He pulls away the blanket to expose his pale face. "You were right. They do know what's going to happen to us."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ken, and Sayuri. They knew all along." he stood up from bed and layed against the headboard, sighing to himself. "It's been a long time since I was out of bed..."

"What did they know?"

Our gazes locked. "That she was going to die."

I stood up and approached him. I was immediately struck with concern. "Souta, how do you know this?"

Souta licked his dry lips and took in a deep breath.

"He told me," he said as he put a hand to his chest, "He knows everything."

"Krad?"

Souta nodded. "I was dreaming...because he was trying to warn me."

I gulped and tried to get my mind on something else. The conversation between us was making me very uncomfortable. Is he implying that Krad is conscious of future events? I have heard a multitude of stories that told of his supernatural abilities, but fortune telling? Is Krad more than a parasitic beast that lives inside the Hikari males? Is he some kind of a soothsayer? No, that can't be right. Souta must be entering a state of delirium.

Sympathy boils inside me, and I want nothing else but to comfort him. I grasp his face and kiss his forehead. He begins to cry, and his cheeks turn a pale pink.

"I-I'm sorry...for being sad all the time..." he hiccuped.

I ruffle his hair and force myself to smile. "It's alright. Don't be sorry anymore." I kissed his forehead a second time, and he embraces me, pulling me to his trembling body. How I wished I could cure him. How I wished I could rid him of this ominous angel. He's already distressed over her sister's death. He doesn't need this being inside him, whispering in his ear the most insidious nonsense.

Even as I console him, what he said to me before doesn't leave my mind. He claims Krad knows everything. That Krad was trying to warn him. How could he possibly know Setsuko was going to die? Can he really tell the future? Fearing Sayuri's reaction, I decided to console Ken in the hopes that he was more knowledgeable on the subject.

Ken clicks his tongue as he flips through the pages of an old and tattered book. It's spine is bent and it looks as if it is about to turn to dust. Souta and I sit in impatience in the study room, staring at the cobwebs. We haven't been here since the night Ritsuko and Hideki died, and it's not a pleasant place to be knowing that. Ken finally comes to the page he's looking for and slides his finger down the length of it.

"Here we are," he mumbles, "White wings."

"Ken, I told you to find _Krad_," I whined. "Who's White Wings?"

Ken scoffs, "Krad _**is**__ '_White Wings'. That's his name in Japanese mythology."

"Okay." I sigh and rest my head on my palm, thankful that he at least found something on Krad.

"Now then," he clears his throat, "It says in here that the White Wings has been an omen in the dreams of the Hikari's for centuries."

"What's an omen?" Souta squeaks, grabbing my pendant.

"An omen is a warning. Something that symbolizes what is yet to come." Ken replies.

Souta gasps and starts fidgeting with his nails again, just like he did in class the day she...

Ken continues to read, "The White Wings is usually portrayed in dreams as standing in front of certain things, such as a garden, a grave, a certain house, a cemetery, or on rare occasions, the sky itself."

"Does it say anything about bells?" Souta asked.

Ken glimpses at the page. "No."

"Then what do they mean?" I said.

"Well, in dreams...bells usually stand for judgment. Is that what you saw, Souta? Krad was standing in front of a bell?"

Souta solemnly nodded and averted his grey orbs to the marble floor.

I was baffled. "What? Setsuko never did anything wrong."

Ken sighs and closes the book, placing it on the dusty table. "Rio...I don't think it was Setsuko who was being punished."

* * *

Sorry again for it taking me forever to update. As I've said before, this fic came to me in bits and pieces. And I'm finally starting to realize what a chore it is to place these events sufficiently in Rio's life. But don't worry, I'll get all my ideas in their proper place.


	7. Incubus

_Chapter Seven: Incubus _

I growl in frustration and finger comb my frizzy blue mane of curls as I walk down a lengthy corridor. My white shoes clank on the floor, increasing my irritation. This makes me strut faster down the hall, and I place my hands at my sides and curl my hands into a ball. This is ridiculous. She couldn't have possibly told all of the house guards in such a little span of time!

The guards at the wall hold their guns firmly to their breasts, staring straight at the guard across from them. An occasional maid will walk past me, ask me if I need anything, and I'll tell them no. One maid suggested if my hair was bothering me, she could braid it for me or style it any way I desired. I thanked her and denied her offer, returning to my angry sauntering down the hall.

"Are you alright, Miss Rio?" a blond clad in a French maid outfit asked.

I shake my head furiously. "I can't get outside! No one will let me! Will you take me outside?"

She flinches. "Erm, I apologize, Miss Rio, but everyone's been ordered not to escort you outside. But if you want company, I can get some other maids and we can play a game with you." She smiled and lowered her tray, presenting crescents to me. "Fresh from the oven."

I shook my head. _"Everyone?"_

She nodded.

I refused to believe it. That's impossible.

I ran from her and turned down another corridor. The typical alignment of house guards positioned along it's walls greeted me. I went up to a random man and asked him the same question I had asked the blond maid. But only the same result.

"We were all given orders--"

"I don't give a damn what your orders are! You listen to me!" I pouted. I tugged at his pants, and then reached for his gun. He held it high over his head before I could snatch it. "I'm sorry, but I cannot. And neither can any of us."

I gaped in disbelief. "Then..how long am I supposed to stay here?"

He gave me an unsure smile and shrugged. "As long as your mother wishes."

"She's not my mother!" I snapped. Then I scampered down the hall, leaving the guards to whisper about my unusual behavior.

Sayuri told one person, then it passed to a random butler, then to a random maid, then to all the house guards. The order spread like wildfire. Don't escort Rio outside, nor allow her.

"_You're going to rot here."_

"_You're going to rot here."_

"_You're going to..."_

"_...Rot..."_

I didn't do it. I didn't let her die. She ran into the street. How am I to take the blame? Is she so encased in her despair, she just had to blame someone?

I stop a butler. "Where's Ken?"

He scratched his gruff beard. "Your father?" he muttered, "Well, I don't know, Miss. But I could ask someone who does."

Feeling myself grow impatient, I oblige. He walked into a nearby library and up to a table where a phone lay. He picked the handle off of it's cradle and dialed the floor below him. Someone answered immediately, muttering on the other end of the line. He nodded every now and again, and giggled once or twice, then hung up.

He turned to me. I had my hands folded, looking like a spoiled child with lion-like locks. He smiled and said softly, "Ken is in the ballroom. It seems we have a rather sudden influx of guests. I didn't know we would be having a party...it's been so long.." he trailed off as my face contorted in a confused expression. "I assume you didn't know either, eh?"

"A..party?"

"Yes, yes. Shall I have Fugitaka take you there?"

"I don't know who that is, but okay."

He chuckled.

The ballroom ceiling was stories high, embellished with naked child-like angels singing to each other. A few of them had a lyre, one was singing to a flushed girl angel. In the middle of the ballroom stood a gargantuan chandelier adorned in tear shaped crystals around the edge of the canopies. It lighted the room like a magnificent orb of gold. At the edges of the room stood elongated tables decorated with a colorful array of food. Wealthy throngs of people filled the interior. A sea of incomprehensible voices stung my ears.

What the butler had said was true. The ballroom hasn't been used in years. Sayuri was never fond of parties, as she only attended them to strengthen her popularity and hold up to the Hikari reputation.

But there she was, sheathed in a sleeveless satin purple dress, with her dangerous azure eyes narrowed, looking very uninterested in the conversation she was involved in. Ken was close by her, wearing his usual business suit, but he seemed entertained. It didn't take much to conclude that he was a far more skilled actor than Sayuri when it came socializing with others. His smile seemed so forced, and I felt a weight on my heart.

Ever since Setsuko died, he became disturbingly quiet. He had stopped reading the newspaper. Nothing concerned him anymore but his own misery. He would stare aimlessly out the window as a grey cloud of smoke from his cigar would fly into the air and diminish. Now he was pretending to be happy, conversing jubilantly with others of his kind.

I knew Sayuri was aware of my presence; she glimpsed at my glaring eyes for the briefest moment, then averted them back to group of people she was talking to. Defiance flowed through my veins, stinging my senses, and I wanted nothing more than to spite her. But though I was angry, and my feelings seemed to have hardened my regard for Sayuri's reputation or mine, I wasn't foolish. Sayuri wouldn't dare to beat me in front of this massive crowd of people, but she would manage to get me alone and render me a quivering whelp on a blood-stained floor.

She averted her gaze to me again, despising me deep in her heart, wishing insidious things upon me. From the gleam in her eyes I knew she sensed a challenge. She knew well that I was infuriated with her for forcibly trapping me in this chasm of loneliness. She reveled at the thought of me wandering hopelessly down a dark hall, alone and insane.

I see Setsuko's broken bones and weak smile lying on the pavement. Anger turns into shame, then shame into despair. I'm trapped. I'm trapped.

Fearing I might give Sayuri her sick satisfaction by bursting into tears, I plunge myself into the crowd of rich snobs and plow my way through. I ruthlessly push women aside and nudge at men's legs. I want to get away now. I don't want to be here anymore. I have to escape.

Finally out of the thick sea of people, I see a familiar form walk into the room. Souta.

He has his book bag slung over his shoulder, holding an ice compress over his head, and tears staining his cheeks. Blood marred his forehead and his black mane. He is staring up at the ceiling at the child-like, winged seraphs.

Our eyes meet.

"Souta!" I cried, rushing over to him in an instant. "What happened?"

Kayako was rubbing his shoulders, trying to console him. "Alright, she's here now, don't worry. Let's go to your room now. You can get some rest."

Souta didn't reply. He took a breath and looked at the floor, walking away while Kayako followed him.

"Souta, I'm talking to you! What happened?"

He shook his head, sniffing. He mumbled something incoherent, then wrapped his arms around himself.

He sat on the bed of our room while I rubbed his soft hand. Souta stared blankly at the floor, refusing to say a word. Kayako walked up to him and increased the pressure of the compress on his head. "This'll stop the swelling." she muttered.

I knew immediately the matter at hand. Someway, somehow, this had something to do with Krad. It just had to. When I was still in school, he was always reserved and well behaved. Somehow, for whatever reason, was it possible that during class he may have dissociated into his alter ego?

Whatever the reason, Souta was in tears now, bleeding from the top of his head. He also had several bruises on his back. What had happened to him?

Kayako walked away, staring sympathetically at my brother's pitiful state. "If you need anything, just tell me, okay?"

She disappeared behind the large double doors.

He set himself on my shoulder, sobbing quietly.

"Souta..?"

He squeezed my shoulder. "They.." he sniffed, "They were throwing rocks at me!"

I froze. "What?"

"They kept on saying that I was weird...and I should.." he hiccuped, "Just go back to my mansion like the spoiled brat I am!"

"Why would they be so mean to you? You didn't do anything to them!" I was incredulous.

"We were playing basketball in the gym...and a boy pushed me down and said I was too slow.."

I nodded, pushing blood saturated strands from his face.

"And he got mad and said, 'Why don't you stand up for yourself? You should just kill them all'..."

I gasped. "Who said kill them all??"

"Krad."

I was speechless as he continued on, his words emitting a terrifying power over me.

"He said 'You see? They don't care about you...they want you dead...but soon none of that will matter'..."

He bore into my gaze, his eyes looking like circular depths of grey. "He said to me..'One day...you won't feel any pain any more'..."

* * *

We ran down a seemingly endless corridor, ducking behind tables and plants. He looked over from the edge of the wall, then he said, "Clear."

Souta and I sprang up from our positions and zoomed down another hall. He promised me before he left for school that he would sneak me outside, but if Sayuri beat him he would never talk to me again. I reluctantly agreed.

Now we were slithering the halls of the Hikari mansion, trying to evade the house guards. We only had one destination, one thought, one hope in mind: the East Wing.

Rumor has it there is a secret stair case hidden in one of the rooms of the Forbidden East Wing. One would have to try out each and every room, but if they were desperate to breathe fresh air and feel the warmth of the sun like me, they would do it.

We suddenly stopped in our tracks, waiting like sitting ducks. I groaned in impatience, "When are we going to get outside? These halls are empty! We can slip in--"

"Shh!" he put a finger to his mouth to silence me. "A house guard is supposed to meet us here."

My eyes widened. "What? He'll rat us out! Sayuri is gonna--"

"Shh! Stop being so obnoxious."

I arched a brow. "What's that mean?"

"It means acting stupid, like you are right now." he pouted.

Crossing my arms, I pursed my lips into a frown and looked away from him.

"He should be here any moment now. I caught him the study hall with a maid...she was naked from the waist up.."

My insides lurched. "Yuck! What were they doing?"

He shook his head. "You don't want to know. Anyway, I caught him, and I told him that I was going to tell Sayuri he was being nasty with a maid and he said 'No, no, I'll do anything', and I said.." he took in a lung full of air, taking a break from his speed talking.

"And I said, 'Okay, but you have to do something for me', and he says 'Anything, kid, anything', and I said that I wanted him to sneak us outside."

A few minutes later we heard frantic steps advancing down the hall. We panicked. Souta covered my mouth to keep me from squealing. Though he had reassured me time and time again that 'that man would be here', we were still vigilant of other house guards and maids, and the worst of them all, Sayuri or Ken.

We were caught by a man with a gruff beard similar to Ken's. His eyes were sunken in, and his crow's feet were really noticeable. He shared some physical aspects with the butler who escorted me downstairs. His black hair mingled with some stray gray strands, and I assumed he was in his 40's. He snarled at us and rested his hands at his sides.

Souta sighed in relief.

"Well, come now!" he growled, strolling ahead of us down a dark hallway.

Souta grabbed my hand and smiled warmly at me. "That's the guy."

I nodded, and we followed the man Souta claimed he caught with a half-naked house maid. To me, he didn't look attractive in the slightest, much less that he could coax a woman into intimacy with him. He disgusted me. I knew what he was doing with that woman, and every time I thought about that act, my insides churned. I still believed in the stork then, despite the groaning I would hear late at night..

He led us to the front of a locked room. He slipped a ring of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. He swung it open and leaned against the door. He ushered us in, wearing the same look of malice on his face that he met us with.

We walked in slowly. The room was dusty. The paint of the walls were chipped, decayed. Archaic books lined the musky smelling shelves. The edges of a table bore white, whithered cobwebs. Souta sneezed and sniffed, rubbing his red nose.

"Are you sure this is the place?" I asked.

"Yeah," he grumbled tersely, walking past me and examining the bookshelf in front of us. He shuffled the keys and clasped a golden key. He flipped open the spine of a dusty book. Inside of it was a keyhole. He inserted and twisted it, and a mechanism from inside the bookshelf clicked numerous times. He grunted and stepped back. "Think that's the one.."

He went to the edge of the bookshelf and torn away the wall, revealing to us a dark, hidden passage. We spent a few moments of gaping at the massive hole in front of us until he snapped us out of our amazement.

"Hey, so ya goin' or not?" he said, irritated.

Souta turned to me, his face bright and void of the despair he once had when Kayako left us in our room alone. "Let's go!"

I couldn't help but smile back. I was finally going to venture in a forbidden world: outside. The man reached into the blackness and pulled down on something. A light bulb flickered instantly, swaying back and forth. The stairs were dimly lit now. I gulped and pushed Souta in front of me, "You go first."

"Don't be afraid, Rio." he said, startling me with his sudden bravery. Usually it was I who had to tell him not to be afraid.

"He's going to take us down."

The man rolled his eyes and motioned for us to follow him down the darkened steps. We walked down, closely behind him. An occasional shiver ran up my spine, and Souta comforted me by caressing my spiral tendrils. When we reached the end of the steps I almost fell, but the man broke my fall. "Watch yourself, girl." he warned.

I gulped and clung to Souta, feeling like we had switched bodies. "Mister, where are we?"

"The back." he replied, "Damn, this place is ancient."

I looked to my right, and was shocked when I encountered a dusty book sitting on a table. The ceilings were covered in moss. The pillars were cracked and adorned in poison ivy. _We were beaten here._

Souta seemed to know what I was thinking. He quivered as he recalled the devastating memories. "This place hurts.." he whispered.

"Well, run along. And remember what you said, boy! Don't tell your mom about what you saw. Just forget it ever happened."

Souta smiled mischievously. "Alright."

If I didn't know any better, I'd say he enjoyed having power over someone. It probably felt good to him to be blackmailing someone after being so helpless all the time, praying for Sayuri's non-existent mercy.

The swings creaked as children swung on them, laughing in all their joy. I was hardly ever granted such joy. Sand was tossed about, babies cooed to their mothers, parents conversed among themselves. Oh, how I coveted this so badly. I envied other children for their fortune. I remembered what a guard at the front gate said about us. He said that we may be wealthy, but we were not treated like children should be. And he couldn't be more correct.

I imagined Setsuko in the sandbox, gleefully smashing a sandcastle to a formless heap while another child cried. A deep sadness overtook me, and I was hurled back to the memory of her laying dead in the street.

Souta abruptly shook me out of my depressed daydreams and pointed to two empty swings. We pounced at them, smiling triumphantly at the others who didn't get to them in time. Some of them glared, and others simply walked off.

We gave each other a high five, and then started to swing. A few minutes of this and I was already intoxicated with bliss. The sun was shining brightly down on me, and I just wanted this feeling to last forever. I loathed at the thought of having to go home before Sayuri's suspicions would rise.

Again Souta snapped me out of my thoughts when he suddenly screamed and stopped swinging. He ran from me. I was left with disbelief and confusion. Why did he run away? I looked in front of me.

There a girl stood, blushing a bright pink. I had never seen her before. Why in the world would Souta fear a girl, of all people?

She had bright, shoulder length, auburn hair. Her eyes were the color of fire. She wore a childish, frilly yellow dress, and I didn't expect someone her age to be wearing something like that. She appeared innocent in every way, and my only impression of her was that she had a crush on someone.

Apparently that someone was Souta. And he hated it so much he fled from her.

I struggled to suppress a giggle. Souta was afraid of this girl because she was fond of him? If anything, he should be clinging to her, constantly running his fingers through her hair just like he does to me. I assumed all boys went through a phase when they were terrified of love-struck girls.

I got up from my swing and met a shivering Souta hiding behind a bush. The blushing girl followed me. When their gazes met, he squealed and backed away. "D-don't touch me, you creepy girl!"

She gasped and glared at him, resting her hands on her hips. "How dare you! I have a name, you know! Haruko! You hear me? Haruko! Not 'creepy girl'!"

He defiantly shook his head, sticking his tongue out at her.

"Haruko?" I inquired.

She turned to me, her smile now blazing. "Yup! Haruko Harada."

I tilted my head, suddenly deep in thought. Harada, eh? Hmm...

Well, I'm sure I've heard the surname "Harada" before. Sayuri mentioned it a few times. I believe they have some connection with the Hikaris, as do the Niwas, but I didn't know exactly how they were acquainted with us.

"Hey, Souta, can I get a kiss?" she cooed, leaning in on him. He was horrified.

"Rio, save me!" he cried, shielding his face.

I laughed and shook my head. "Nope! You have to give her a kiss first!"

Seeing as his sister, whom he trusted more than anyone was useless in his defense, he cried out as Haruko pounced on him, randomly planting kisses on his temples and cheeks. A girl called out, "Haruko! It's time to go!"

She turned around, getting up to dust her dress off. She smiled at us both and left.

"Hey, wait!" I shouted back.

She spun around to face me with that trademark smile of hers. "Yes? Does Souta want more love?" she giggled.

"Are those your parents?" I said, pointing to two obscure figures behind the black window of an elongated limousine. She turned back. "Yup, that's my mommy, and my daddy."

A girl with longer, chocolate brown hair and chestnut eyes poked her head out of the limousine. "Haruko! Did you hear me? I said it's time to go!"

She sighed in defeat. "Okay, Rika!" She blew one last kiss at Souta and winked an eye, then trodded off to the car. In moments, she was gone, leaving me and a very traumatized Souta behind.

I turned around to face him. He was flushed and quite disturbed, with his hands wrapped around himself, and his eyes were huge. I smiled. "Souta! Naughty, naughty! You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend!" My eyes glimmered.

He looked up at me, on the verge of tears. "I don't have a girlfriend! I can't have one! And I don't like Haruko at all! I hate her! And I hate you!"

He ran away from me, only to weep on a solitary bench. I sat next to him, capturing him in a tight embrace. "Oh, I'm sorry, Souta. It was just a kiss. What's wrong with that? You like it when I kiss you."

"That's because I don't have to worry about hurting you.." he mumbled weakly, half-lidded eyes focused on my pendant. "You're safe from him.."

I was struck with worry and alarm. What could he possibly mean by that? Why would Souta hurt me? Then again...he's not talking about himself.

He's talking about Krad.

"You know, Souta.." I managed, trying to keep calm. "You never told me what really happened to you."

He turned away from me, and the wounds on the crown of his head were noticeable. I swallowed hard, my acids flaring. Why did such a poor, innocent soul deserve such torment?

"He wouldn't leave me alone." he breathed, sniffing. "He kept on talking to me, calling the people around me nasty names..and he kept saying that no one cares for me like he does.."

I intervened. "Souta, do you want to put the compress on? It's hot out and the sun must be beating down on you.."

He shook his head. "No, thanks."

I placed the ice compress back in my Barbie purse and zipped it. "What was he saying?"

He sighed and rested his palms on his forehead. "Why does it matter? Why? He'll just keep on saying these things.."

A lone tear ran down his cheek, falling on his clenched fist. "That's why I can't have friends. Everyone hates me because I don't want to hurt them. They hate me because I won't talk. They hate me because I don't want them near me."

My eyes widened, and my stomach dropped. He turned to me, his expression very grim and dire.

"He says 'You're lucky'." he murmured, " 'If it wasn't for that pendant, she'd be dead too, just like your sister'..."

* * *

We returned home in haste. The ball was still going on, and our parents were no where to be found. The halls were desolate and quiet. The East Wing was never guarded.

We walked silently past old and decayed doors, taking notice of all those that were marked with red crayon. Souta had done that when he was seven, so we'd know which doors weren't barricaded from the inside. The door that sheathed the "Sage of Sleep" was marked with blue crayon, since it was one of my favorite Hikari devices. I hadn't dared to touch it in ages, and after Setsuko left, the notion of ever returning here completely abandoned my head.

I felt no will nor the strength to speak. I was too frozen with fear. Krad seemed a huge threat now, when previously, he hardly ever occurred in my thoughts. I only saw Setsuko. But now I felt that Death was looming upon me in the hallway just as he was advancing to Setsuko while she stood in the street.

Souta was mute, shaken. I realized how easy it was to ruin his mood. Why hadn't I just stopped Haruko from kissing him? None of this would have happened..

He halts at a door with paper flowers taped to it. We simply stood before it, soundless and wondering. It looked like a little girl's room. Without hesitation, he flung open the door and stepped inside, inhaling an all too familiar scent. It was she. Her smell. Setsuko.

I entered also, eager to see the interior. Much to my surprise, there were cigarette butts and ashes strewn everywhere on the tables, but only one ash tray, filled to the brim. A messy bed, a pillow with flowers on it, papers on the floor, high heels, and a hair tie. What was this place? Did Sayuri share a room with Setsuko without our knowledge? Is this room the _real_ reason why we were not allowed in the East Wing?

Curiously, Souta approaches a table and slides out the first shelf. He takes out a black skirt and a white, collared shirt. Maid garb.

He studied the clothing with puzzlement. "This isn't Sayuri's." he confirmed.

"Hn?" I said, taking my attention off of Setsuko's red school uniform laying on the bed.

"I said, this isn't Sayuri's stuff. It's Kayako's."

"Kayako? You mean she slept with Setsuko in the East Wing?"

"Looks like it."

Suddenly aware of impending danger, I told him to return the clothing where he found it and leave. He obeyed and ran out of the room, calling after me.

"Okay! Gimme a minute!" I said. I quickly snatched up Setsuko's school uniform and stuffed it in my Barbie bag, closed the door, and ran after Souta down the hall.


	8. Omen

_Chapter Eight: Omen_

My eyes fluttered open, and I layed disoriented in my warm bed as my conscious thoughts started to return to me. I felt a hollow depth within myself. With my conscious thinking came that same realization: that she was not sleeping soundly in the Forbidden East Wing, huddled up against Kayako's breasts. She is in the dark and silent meadow, sleeping deep within the layers of the earth.

My mind presents an image of her decaying, and I squint my eyes and banish the notion. I am half awake and the first thing my body prepares itself to do is grieve. The beating of my heart intensifies, and I can feel the ducts swelling up with water, ready to burst.

Memories of her mar my mind, my being.

I'm sorry, Setsuko. I let go.

My numb hands reach for the inside of my pillowcase. I caress the fabric of her school uniform, remembering that I folded and slid it inside. That way she will never be far from me.

The car screeches a thousand times, and sleep never comes, but her dying gaze always does. She runs about in my head, haunting me like the stubborn apparition she is. During the night, when my eyes are closed, the memories play themselves over and over again, like a eternal movie.

The tears run down my cheeks, burning my face. My vision blurs, and then adjusts again. I see him. His black mane hidden underneath the covers. He is breathing on my chest calmly. Will he ever leave me someday, just like Setsuko?

God, I hope not.

I kiss his forehead and wait for sleep to come. But it never did.

* * *

_Rio, age 12_

_3 years later_

Setsuko's death had still affected us in different ways. Souta would occasionally enter his mute spells and would spend days in bed, staring at the ceiling with a few roads of dried tears imprinted on his face. I would stare out the window and question the merit of living. Ken would walk about the halls and silently smoke his cigarette, leaving a cloud of smoke to disappear behind him. But the passing of our dear Setsuko seemed to have taken it's largest toll on Sayuri.

All day, and on some dreary occasions, all night, she would stand before the patch of red carnations she was buried under. Just standing there, for endless hours. She would never move. The wind had to toss her hair about to even make it seem like she was still alive. It was as if she were a erect corpse standing over her daughter's grave.

We were all mourning her death several years after she died, but that was all we had in common. Souta and I changed very little. Ken and Sayuri's youth preceded them, but while they had not changed in appearance, they had made up for it in personality.

Ken had become quiet, kind and reserved. Yes, kind. For 3 years, he didn't dare lay a finger on Souta or me. As I've previously mentioned, he was too consumed in his misery. I thought that since our sister was dead, he decided to stop mistreating us for fear that when we died, he would feel even worse.

Maybe he knew better than to harm us now. Maybe he learned a lesson that day. He could have learned that he did have a heart, though he had tried so hard to conceal it from his wife and children. Or it could have been that nothing mattered to him anymore. I will never know.

As for the heartless beast, she started to attend balls and galas frequently, dragging Ken along for the rides. She needed a daily excuse to drink. She also took up smoking, Ken's age old habit.

While on this path of self destruction, she sought to make the lives of those around her as insufferable as hers. Not only Souta and I, but she would attack Ken and the house guards. She fired dozens of maids and guards for the silliest reasons. I heard from Ken that a maid was walking down the same corridor as Sayuri. She was scared, so she accidentally dropped her tray. Sayuri simply told her, "Get out."

And so she did.

Besides firing our personal servants for haphazard reasons, she occasionally fell into what Ken termed "beating fits". Whenever Souta and I would walk past her, be it anywhere, she would grab me by my hair and and slap me, rip my hair out, and destroy my clothes. Sayuri abusing me was nothing new. But her beating me just for the sake of inflicting harm, though I had not done anything, was unusual. Even more so, because Souta would escape her little "beating fits" completely unharmed, even if he intervened. I was her only target.

Eventually, Ken had intercepted and restrained her so I could run away. Her violent episodes with me became so serious that Ken assigned me my own personal body guards. I barely needed them. Her beatings would not take place unless I happened to cross her path. But I learned from my mistakes and kept my distance.

Souta no longer feared Sayuri as strongly as he did when we were younger. He already had someone else to fear. Everyday, he would tell me something Krad had told him. I began to think that Krad would tell Souta these things as a way of indirectly communicating with me.

Some of the things he said were so utterly horrible I thought he had gone insane. He emphasized Krad's desire to amputate my limbs and decapitate Sayuri. He told gruesome stories of what Krad had forced his former tamers to do. He even said that Krad boasted about forcing his tamer to kill all his siblings and call the police on himself. Some of those grotesque deeds had even brought me to tears.

But regardless of this, he still managed to profess his love for me. One day, while I was gazing out the window, he hugged me from behind. He nuzzled into my back and whispered, "I love you, Rio."

I turned around and captured him in a hug. "I love you too, Souta.."

He looked into my eyes and confessed, "You're the only reason I'm alive."

I cried that night and held him tight to my chest. I could do nothing while he suffered at the hands of that psychotic fiend. No one could. He had to suffer alone. He warned that if one got too involved with him, Krad would do 'something terrible'. Though strange through society's eyes, Souta's aversion to his classmates and the love-struck Haruko seemed logical to me.

His condition haunted me for endless nights. He talked of Krad as if he were a disease that could never be cured. And after all the horrid stories, all the nightmares and the helpless crying, I began to believe him.

A few weeks passed. One day, while we lay about the bed, pondering ways to entertain ourselves, Ken came up to our room. He solemnly stared at Souta. Then he said, "Do you know how old you are?"

I stood up, immediately alarmed.

"I'm 13, right?"

Ken nodded. "Remember that. Remember."

He left.

"What does he mean by that? You're not turning, are you? What's hap-"

"Calm down, Rio. It's alright."

I shook my head furiously, "No, it's not alright! This is serious!"

"He just means that I'm close. That's all. I'm just close. Don't worry."

That night, I went to bed feeling upset and shaken. Sleep didn't come that night, either. But something else was approaching. And with every passing day, it quickened it's pace. I grew impatient and fearful.

* * *

I stare helplessly at my reflection, weeping at the searing pain in my chest. My lower region is aching, and I feel a liquid ooze out of me. A slim, hot river runs down my legs, stinging my inner thighs. Whats happening to me?

My eyes had somehow got smaller, and the color seems brighter than before. My hair is still as thick as a lion's tresses. The curls slither down my sore breasts and rest on my stomach. My height had increased, much to my amazement. And my breasts had increased in girth. Is this whats causing the problem? Are my breasts too heavy for my body to hold? Am I dying?

I stand before the mirror in misery and puzzlement, wondering why the universe seems so different now. My stomach is collapsing in on itself, sending waves of pain all throughout me. A headache assaults me, hindering my ability to think straight. I am in so much discomfort, I can't do anything to help myself. What's happening? I can't be dying, can I?

I swallow hard. Souta approaches me with bewilderment in his features. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

I can't take the pain any longer, and I flee from him. He calls after me, asking the same question. If I knew, I would have told him. Better yet, I would have done something about it. Still the pain assails me. I grab the sides of my head, desperately trying to alleviate the throbbing.

Swinging open the door of the bathroom, I sink down into a fetal position and weep. I can hear tapping advancing toward me, but it doesn't concern me. All I care about is this pain, and hoping my praying will cease it.

A harsh blow assaults me, and I'm forced to open my eyes. Sayuri stands above me, glaring into my frightened stare. "Stop crying before I give you something to cry about! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"It hurts!" I wailed, "It won't stop hurting!"

Sayuri paused, seeming amused. "Really, now?" She arched a brow. "Stand up."

I painfully obeyed.

She studied me attentively, imbibing every aspect. Much to my horror, she tugged at the waistband of my skirt, then pulled it down to my knees. I was petrified. "What are you doing?!" I cried.

"Shut up." she growled, swiping my skirt from under my feet and almost causing me to trip. I shielded my nakedness from her. She slapped my hands away and pulled my panties down to my knees, staring at my undeveloped womanhood. I began to cry again. She averted her attention to my panties, which was stained with blood.

I cried out. "Oh, no! I'm dying! Sayuri, hel--"

She slapped me across my face.

"Dammit, be quiet! Don't you ever shut up?"

I sobbed, leaning against the wall and covering my face. I felt humiliated, violated, and disgraced. Sayuri was staring at every part of me, knowing exactly what layed beneath my clothes. She shouldn't be allowed to do this. I'm just a child. No one is supposed to see these parts of me. These parts are private. But here she is, having nearly stripped me naked, her fierce eyes roaming all over me.

"And no, unfortunately, you're not dying." she said calmly, every trace of her previous fury absent. I slowly took my hands from my face, staring up at her.

"W-what?"

"I said you're not dying. Are you deaf?" she snapped.

I shook my head fearfully. "I-I feel something warm...coming down.."

She rolled her eyes. "Take off your panties and throw them away, along with your skirt. And stay here, don't move."

I did as I was told. I remained where I was, and discarded my blood-stained clothes into a trash bin adjacent to the toilet. I leaned against the wall and sniffed, still shaken by the appearance of blood in my panties, still mortified by Sayuri. Even though she told me I wasn't dying, I felt as if the flow would never stop and would drain me dry.

I shyly averted my stare to my womanhood. There was a wound somewhere, somewhere deep within me. A wound I was too afraid to touch. I felt as if worms were slithering inside my stomach, tearing apart my inner organs. The headache I was suffering from was still very present, attacking every nerve.

A change. A drastic change was commencing inside me.

She returned a few moments later with a new skirt and undergarments, along with an unfamiliar white package. She handed them all to me. Then she did something unexpected. She smiled.

"Congratulations, you're ripe." she snickered, and walked out the bathroom without elaborating.

Feeling confused, I pick up the white package from the pile and observe it. It looks like a square shaped, transparent envelope with something soft inside. Did she give me a present to celebrate the fact that I bled all over myself? How odd of her. I swore to myself that I would never understand that woman for as long as I lived.

I dug my fingers under the slit in the package and tore away the paper. Inside was a folded slab with wings at it's sides. I was baffled.

A little while later, I finally figured out the purpose of that little package.

"I feel something warm coming down. I tell you, I'm dying."

"Well, I think--"

"And my breasts hurt too!" I said, cupping them. "Sayuri said I wasn't dying, but I feel like it. I have a horrible headache too!"

Souta studied my chest. "Well, no wonder your breasts hurt. Your dress is too tight." He loosens the bow in the back of my white gown. "If you have it tied up so tight like that, of course it'll hurt. And I know why you do that too! You want your breasts to stick out.."

I eyed him curiously. He gulped and stepped back. "What? Did I say something I shouldn't have?"

"No, it's not that. It's just that your voice sounds...different. Are you changing too? Do you have a headache, and feel like your insides are all squishy and stuff too?"

"Wha..a headache? No. And my insides aren't all..squishy like you say. Is that what you're feeling?"

I nodded.

He sighed. "Rio, I think I know what the problem is with you. It's called a period. That's what you've got." He pointed to me, "A period."

I gasped and covered my cheeks. "It's a disease, isn't it?!"

"No, you've just got your period. All girls get it. I learned it from health class."

"A..period?"

"Yeah. It's when girls bleed from.." he hesitated, "_Down there_...for a while. The teacher says that happens because the girl isn't a girl anymore. She's a woman."

My eyes widened. "A woman? So you mean that I'm grown up now?"

"Uh, I'm not sure that's what the teacher meant.."

I grasp his hands as if I'm about to propose to him. His cheeks flame. "What are you..?"

"So, that means we can leave, Souta! As long as I have this..period..we can escape from here and live somewhere else! No more Sayuri, ever!" I laughed and twirled around in my dress merrily, despite the uncomfortable pad pressing against my lower region.

His blush increased and he looked down, twiddling with his fingers. "Uh..Rio..."

"Yeah?"

He scratched his head.

"No, you cannot leave!" Ken blared, situating himself in the old chair of the study room. I gaped at him.

"What?"

He shook his head. "See? You see? This is why I didn't like it when Sayuri pulled you out of school! You're stupid now!"

"I am not stupid!" I protested. "I'm a woman!"

Souta whimpered in embarrassment and attempted to hide his face from Ken. He gave me the widest smile. "A woman, eh? Rio, do you know what a period is?"

"Yeah!" I said, my confidence still intact. "It's when girls bleed from down there."

"Well.." he burst into laughter. "No. Well, yeah. That's basically what it is, but.." he was still caught up in his amusement.

I scoffed and stomped my feet on the ground. "Stop laughing! And why did Sayuri say I'm ripe?"

He calmed down, but still wore that insipid smile I grew to despise. "Alright, Rio, this is what it really is. A period happens to a girl for only one reason. It means she's ready to bear children."

"So--"

"And the reason why she said you're ripe is because she meant that you can have children now."

"I'm having a child?"

"No!"

A period of uncomfortable silence ensues.

"Dammit, Rio, you better not be pregnant! You better still be a virgin! No daughter of mine is getting pregnant when she's twelve years old!"

"I'm not pregnant!" I snapped. "At least I don't think I am...how do you get pregnant anyway? And what's a virgin?"

I left that humiliating interlude with a lump on my head. Souta rolled his eyes and patted my shoulders while I rubbed my sore spot.

"Oh, Rio.." he sighed hopelessly, giving me a weak smile. "It could've been worse."

I sniffed. "Just shut up, Souta."

The night was dark and hot. The windows did little to soothe the heat that ensnared our bodies. We could only pant and fan ourselves with school folders and geisha fans, with our shorts tucked in and our sleeves folded.

"A hot night and nothing to do," Souta whined, resting his knuckles on his forehead. "This sucks."

"We could entertain ourselves with stories." I suggested. Souta's head perked up.

"Hey, you know what, we could! And I know this maid that tells the best stories!"

I smiled. "Really?"

"Sure!" He sprang up from the bed and walked out of our room. "You coming?"

"Yeah, wait up!"

An elderly butler talks with another man on the phone for a few minutes. "Yes, yes, I'm looking for a Miss Midoriko.."

"Midoriko?" I asked.

Souta nodded. "Yeah, she's pretty, too. She tells me stories about how Sayuri used to get mad at her all the time because she was such a klutz. She even got fired once."

My smile widened. "How did she get hired again?"

"I dunno. I think Ken likes her."

"Ken? Liking a housemaid?" I was astonished. I never thought that he would dare have the audacity to be swept up in the spell of another woman. Doesn't he fear Sayuri? Then again, Sayuri doesn't seem like the jealous type. Would she even envy Midoriko, or at least be threatened by her? This Midoriko woman immediately claimed my interest.

We waited in the reception room for a few minutes until she appeared. She had a feather duster in hand, and her thick black tresses were bunched up into a messy bun. Her bangs fell over her face carelessly, and she had the pinkest cheeks. Her eyes were a mesmerizing green, and her eye lashes were thick. Her lips curved into the perfect smile when she saw Souta. His face flustered.

I giggled. Was he talking about Ken, or was he really talking about himself? Somehow I doubted that Ken was the one who was enamored with Midoriko.

We walked out the doors of the mansion and into the vast patches of bright colored flowers. Trudging through buttercups and tulips, we finally situated ourselves in a patch of dandelions. Souta's blush was still very noticeable as he picked random flowers, probably intending to give them to Midoriko.

"I can see why you're bored. You're at home all the time!" she said.

I dismissed myself from my present pondering and shifted my attention to her.

"Your mother is completely unfair. I heard from Kayako that she blamed you for.." she paused, "What happened."

_In my thoughts, Sayuri stood over me like a predator waiting to pounce on it's prey. I could see her very clearly in my mind. An angry mess, with slender fingers wrapped around a flaming cigarette. "You're not going to school anymore. You're going to rot here."_

I blinked away the imagery. "I know. I can't go to school anymore. The guards stand by the door in the morning, and when I try to get outside, they shake their heads and say 'If you don't leave, we have to call Sayuri. Do you want us to do that'?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," she shook her head. "You know, I'd say something, but I don't want to get fired.."

How selfish of her! To let me suffer for the sake of her job! I was so close to glaring at her, but I restrained myself.

"U-um..here you are, Midoriko," he presented a bouquet of dandelions to her. Her face lit up.

"Oh, thank you so much, Souta. You're such a gentleman!" she accepted them and returned his smile. His blush increased.

I watched attentively at the spectacle. I was amused. To think! His first crush!

I narrowed my eyes and stared at him, insinuating that I knew what he felt deep in his heart. I knew what Midoriko was oblivious to. He was in love! Though I wonder why he would allow himself to fall in love, especially since that day with Haruko Harada..

"_I don't have a girlfriend! I can't have one! And I don't like Haruko at all! I hate her!"_

The fireflies lit up simultaneously, only to disappear a millisecond later. One of them landed on Souta's nose. He squealed and swatted it away. It flew past Midoriko's hair, flickering as it descended into the night. The stars were brighter than I had remembered before, and the calming atmosphere put us at ease.

"Midoriko."

"Hm?" she said, taking her attention off of the sky.

"Tell us one of your stories, they're funny."

Midoriko rested a hand on her chin, musing. "Hmm...oh, oh! I got one!" She straightened herself, her lips cracking into a smile. "Alright, this was before I got fired. I was walking down the hall, when all of a sudden, I saw this insanely cute guard."

She breaks into laughter, covering her mouth. Souta and I shot her confused expressions.

She fanned her hand as if she were swatting a fly. "No, no, that's not the punchline, but it's coming up."

Souta nodded, hugging his knees and smiling. I grew impatient. What's so funny?

"Alright. This guard was like...really good looking. He had blue eyes, dark hair...anyway, he was cute. So I walk up to him and I'm like 'Hey cutie, wanna take a walk with me?' and he just smiles." She runs her fingers through her hair and loosens her bun, swinging her thick black mane to her left shoulder. She seemed immersed in the world of feminine magnificence, loving the fact she was a woman and was endowed with such dazzling features that she could swoon a man with. "And I thought he didn't hear me, so I said it again, 'Hey, do you wanna take a walk with me?' and his smile gets wider. At first I thought my skirt was too short or I had something on my face or something in my teeth.."

She looks at both of us. "And...right before my eyes, he takes off his hat and jacket. He had bright blue--"

We gasped.

She broke into laughter again. "Yeah, _bright blue_, curly hair sticking out of his wig. And he had breasts."

We gape at her, bursting into laughter. "It was a woman!" I cried. "You were flirting with a woman!"

"Ah, ah, ah. Not just any woman. You didn't let me get to the part where she takes off her wig."

"So she was dressed up like a man?"

Midoriko nodded. "Not just any woman. _Sayuri_ disguised herself as a house guard."

I drew a breath in surprise.

"And then she kissed me on my forehead and said, 'Guess what, Miss Midoriko, you're fired! And yes, I would love to take a walk with you. To the front gates!"

"What?" I said in disbelief. "Why did she fire you?"

Souta was too busy laughing.

"Well, I was fired because the other maids complained that I flirted with the guards more than I cleaned up around the mansion. So Sayuri dressed up as a man just to make sure it was true. It was pretty embarrassing."

"Yeah, I'll say.." I said with a big smile on my face. After Souta was done laughing at her, he went silent and studied her face for the longest time. She wasn't paying attention to him.

He stared at her with such deep, dreamy eyes. When he finally realized that I was staring at him, he averted his eyes to the ground timidly. Midoriko took her gaze off of the sky and looked at him curiously.

"What's wrong, buddy?" she asked.

"Uh..o-oh, nothing.." he shook his head, his face inflamed again. He peered at the tulips and dandelions clutched in her hand. "I'm sorry, Midoriko..I wanted to give you flowers that wouldn't die the next day.."

She glimpsed at the small bouquet in her hands. "Oh, it's no problem. They're still a gift from the heart, and I appreciate it." She smiled.

"Y-yeah.."

I tilted my head. I guess Midoriko wasn't as oblivious as I pegged her for.

When Midoriko went to bed, Souta and I walked silently through the dark halls while guards nodded at us from the wall. Some were playing cards, others had their heads slung over, sleeping. We nodded back, and counted how many paintings were on display.

An occasional knight was poised against the wall, holding the axe in the left hand and a sword in the right. I recalled that horrible day when Sayuri and I quarreled at the front gates. I withdrew from the thoughts immediately.

"Hey, Souta, did you ask that maid out?"

"Which one?"

I gave him a confused look. "What do you mean 'which one'? Midoriko. She's the only girl you like."

"Not really." he blushed again. "I fall in love pretty easily. I have a crush on some dozen maids.."

I gasped. "Souta!"

"And for your information, yes. Yes, I asked her out." He said proudly.

I figured since he was gloating about asking her out, I thought she had approved. But I was propelled to ask of the outcome anyway. "And how did it go?"

He frowned. "Of course she said no, Rio. She's 26 years old, and I'm 13. She's twice my age."

"Eh, I just thought..hey, maybe one day you'd have some luck."

He nudged my shoulder playfully. "Rio! You stupid head!"

He looked down and became solemn. "Besides, he wouldn't allow that anyway.." he whispered, as if afraid someone would hear him.

Our bedroom door is still damaged from the impact, since anything of mine is never repaired if it's broken. I walked into my room thousands of times and the cracks in the door were never worthy of any thought. Sayuri and her vicious temperament had become foreign to me. She never met us for dinner at the dining room, hardly ever spoke to her own husband, and was always nowhere to be found. Ken could simply care less; he once commented to us "How much of a hand full she is."

With thoughts of Ken came the image of him walking into our room and reminding Souta of his age. Later on that day, Souta and Ken met up in the study room to discuss his inner "angel".

Ken sighed. "And so the calamitous days proceed to come.."

"Huh?"

He made a dismissive gesture. "No, you wouldn't understand, it's in the Bible, though.."

"You read the Bible?"

"I was made to read it when I was young. So, yeah."

Souta folded his hands and nodded. "Should I be doing anything?"

"Like what?"

"Well, with him and all.."

Ken bit his lip as he mused. "As a matter of fact..yes. Remember to be careful around your sister, you know how he is."

Souta nodded.

"And if she doesn't have the pendant on, you best get the hell away from her. No, scratch that, _anybody._" He waved his finger back and forth to emphasize the following sentence. "That bastard's sneaky, you know."

"Yeah," my brother whispered grimly. "You've dealt with him before, haven't you?"

Ken sat back in his chair as his face contorted. "Me? Yeah right, Souta. You should know by now that he only comes around with the males who are _born_ into this family. I wasn't born into this family. I married Sayuri."

My brother gulped.

"But you could ask Sayuri if she's not too bitchy," he continued. "She used to tell me stories about how her brother tried to kill her all the time.."

Souta's eyes widened. "No! I don't want to do that!"

Ken's hands flew up to calm him. "Woah, I didn't say you would. I was just sayin'..she's been through it."

"What happened to her brother, then?"

Ken stroked his chin with his fingers. "Eh..I _think_ she said he killed himself. I'm not sure.."

My brother's eyes had made the transition from blue to gray. From the other side of the wall, I clenched my fists into a tight ball. Bastard. Upsetting him like this! Horrifying him!

"Look, Souta..." he paused, "You know, I didn't mean to scare you or nothing. I was just telling you. I thought you might be a little more..at ease if you talked with her. She knows Krad better than I do. She could tell you how to handle this. All I've learned of that guy came from books. You know what? He's not as hard to handle as I've made it seem. He will have his days though.."

Yet again, I waited on the other side of the wall while Souta stepped out onto the dark patio. The wind blew softly, whistling peacefully and playing with his hair. He advanced slowly, cautiously, so as not to disturb the dormant dragon sitting upon the chair.

She overlooked the stars beyond her silently, musing to herself. This is the calmest I've ever seen her. She didn't seem to know that he was approaching her. She blew smoke from her mouth as it disappeared into the pink, fading sky. Her fingers twitched, securing the cigarette firmly between them. Slowly she turned around to face him, her eyes narrowed, her mouth contorted into the perfect frown.

Souta whimpered and stepped back. I retreated behind the wall, praying she had not seen me. I was so afraid of being beaten I feared I would soil my undergarments.

He seemed to be waging an internal war on himself, contemplating if he should flee or do what he came here to do.

"Sayuri...I'm sorry if I bothered you.."

"What do you want from me?" She asked softly, though annoyed by his presence. I thought she didn't have the strength to shout somehow.

"I've been having problems."

"Don't we all?" she laughed mockingly, bringing the cancer stick to her mouth.

"I-I mean...with Krad."

A silence fell upon them.

"Has he tried to hurt your sister?"

Silence again. I assume he shook his head or dismissed it without speaking.

She sighed. "I suggest you alienate yourself."

I peeked through the tiniest crevice in the wall, trying to make out a identifiable shape.

What advice! Then that means I would be even more alone!

He remained soundless, like he was contemplating the logic of abandoning me.

"Ken has a pretty big mouth, doesn't he? Did he tell you about your uncle?"

"Uh..no." he murmured apprehensively.

"Well let me refresh your memory. When I was 15 years old, I noticed Kojima was acting strange. I had recurring dreams that he drowned me in the bathtub or strangled me. Then one day, I came home from school and saw him in the back yard...not saying a word. He was clanking something against the grass, sitting on a stone hedge. He didn't seem to be aware that I was behind him." She paused. "Did he tell you that?"

"No. He..he only told me.."

"Ah, yes, I'm getting to that part. When I walked up to him and asked him what was wrong, he looked at me with gold eyes.." she sipped from her cigarette, "He had blood in his hair and face. And I'll never forget that look. Vacant. Just gone. And then he lifted the baseball bat he had in his hand and swung at me. Everything faded."

"Hours later, I woke up in the grass with a horrible headache. Ritsuko found me with tears in her eyes. I still remember the bitter taste of blood in my mouth, and my throbbing head. I could barely move without assistance. She lifted me up and said 'It's horrible, Sayuri! What he did! He was trying to kill your father'."

"Though I was delirious and in terrible pain, be it whatever state I'm in...drunk or dying, I would never believe he was my real father, or the sufficient replacement of one. So I said 'Hideki is not my father', and she started crying again."

Souta was motionless, rigid. She was deeply disturbing him. Telling him this as if the same outcome was destined for him. Then the climax of the tale left my mind blank.

"She said 'I found Kojima in the closet. He hung himself, Sayuri'."

Souta cringed and fell against the wall, grasping his head. "Don't. Why did you tell me...why did you tell me this?"

Sayuri raised her voice. "I'm not telling you this to traumatize you! I'm telling you this so you know what he does to his tamers! He's not a matter to be taken lightly, you understand me?"

He sniffed, sobbing quietly.

"What happened to him could easily happen to you. You can't allow that." She got up from her seat, taking small strides toward him. He flinched, thinking she intended harm. She only grasped his chin and lifted his face to hers.

They stared at each other for a long time. I grew afraid. She was only inches from me. The only thing that separated me from her fury was this worn down wall.

"I can see Rio is important to you," she started, continuing to gaze at him, "But it needs to end now."

NIGHT TIME

The large canopy hung over us, swaying slightly in the gentle night breeze. Sweat stuck to my legs and arms, burning my flesh. My saturated bangs were glued to my forehead and itched my face. Souta and I panted like dogs in heat, complaining and comparing ourselves to frying eggs and melting ice. Another unbearably hot night. Defiant bodies that didn't want to rest. Basking in late night boredom. What a dreadful combination.

I was still frustrated with Sayuri's commands to separate himself from me. I couldn't think of my life without Souta by my side. I couldn't dream without knowing he was sleeping beside me, dreaming too. I wouldn't wake up unless he was on the other side of the bed, tilting his head this way and that because of his low blood pressure.

I felt our childhood was swiftly leaving me, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.

Souta turned to me, breathing unevenly and fanning himself hot air with my circular geisha fan. "So...what...do you..?"

I sighed and wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. "You know, just because it's nighttime..doesn't mean we have to go to bed."

"Yeah?"

I nodded. "Ken and Sayuri sent us to bed early when we were little because of..her."

His breathing slowed and he swallowed hard, not leaving my gaze. It had been a long while since we brought her up.

"That's not the only reason." he shook his head. "Ken didn't want us on the ground floor at night because of Sayuri too."

"Sayuri?"

He licked his dry lips, fanning faster. "Yeah. She drinks a lot, you know. And he told me that she's really nasty to the maids at night."

"I didn't know Sayuri had a drinking problem."

"She's been doing it since before any of us were born. Ken said so. He just kept us away all the time, so we didn't know. He just told me a few days ago."

My lips pursed into a frown. "So that's why she's mean, Souta. She's a drunk."

Souta's eyes widened, "No. That's not why at all. I know how Sayuri acts like when shes drunk. So do you. It doesn't have nothing to do with her drinking."

"Then what?"

"He told me that really bad things happened to her when she was young. And it made her into who she is."

"Why would Ken tell you all this? It's not like him to gossip about someone like Sayuri..do you have any idea what she'd do to him if she found out?"

He became reserved for a few moments.

"Wait.." I propped myself up on my elbows, suddenly overcome by worry. "...Ken told you this..right?"

He glimpsed at the sheets and back at me. Another moment of quiet, then, "I wasn't talking about him."

I grew angry. Why doesn't Krad just shut the hole in his face? It frustrated me to no end that this sadistic beast is always whispering in my brother's ear!

"Why doesn't he just shut up??"

Souta stared blankly off into space, then looked at me. His face had suddenly gone pale. His eyes were dilated and the irises had completely disappeared. His face was still and emotionless as he spoke, and I knew that at that moment, the person talking to me was not my brother.

"Sweet child," he said in double voices, "You cannot silence me. Neither can your brother." He reached up and caressed my cheek. I flinched and withdrew.

"You're lucky, you know. If your grandfather had not so generously handed you that pendant.."

He narrowed his eyes dangerously and touched it. He grunted as the necklace suddenly reacted, repelling him with a lustrous light and stinging his fingers with a sudden burst of white electricity. I screamed and flew back on the bed, slamming into a pile of pillows. He was thrown back by the impact as well, flying off the bed and hitting his back against the bottom of my dresser drawer.

While I layed there in a terrified stupor, Souta sighed lightly as his color reverted to an usual dark blue and his irises returned to him. His head plunked on the marble floor.

His eyes widened somewhat. His fingers gingerly skidded across the floor, weakly reaching out for me. "Rio.." he whispered, as if he would never see me again.

His eyes dilated again and closed.

* * *

During the course of the night, I tried on numerous instances to wake him, but he only layed limp in my arms. Sweat beaded my forehead, tears stung my cheeks. What had happened? Why did the necklace shock him like that? How could Krad suddenly gain the ability to seize Souta's consciousness? I grew very afraid. Something was coming.

Ken laid him on the couch in the study room, exhaling sharply. Souta turned his head and became still. My eyes were brimming with tears. My lips were bleeding because I had bitten them so hard. My hands were firmly clenching my white gown. I thought him dead.

"You didn't have to scream like that." said Ken, taking out a lighter. He spewed smoke from his mouth, "At least we know now that what Hideki gave you isn't useless."

"What are you talking about?" I cried, grabbing the pendant and presenting it to him, "This hurt my brother!"

"Better him than you. He could have killed you. He can use Souta to take off your necklace. But it repelled him 'cause Krad was in control of his vessel at the time."

"What?"

"It's very effective, that piece. Hideki was very smart to give that to you. He knew Souta was going to be Krad's new puppet. I suggest you be very careful. In fact, don't let Souta hug you or anything. Krad can take control at any time."

I cried out. "No! But you said it's only when he's fourteen that Krad can do that!"

"And I didn't lie to you," he said nonchalantly, shaking his head, "Krad can appear physically when Souta hits the big one four. But when he's near, he can use Souta's body against him. It depends on whether he has his defenses up. This is why we cut him and made him sleep in the cemetery."

"No, you didn't! You did that just to torture him!"

"No we didn't. We did that because he was weak. We were trying to prepare him. When you're dealing with a psychopath like the White Wings, it's always good not to be easily scared. That's his favorite tool: fear."

Sayuri suddenly emerged from the shadows. "He _is_ weak." she confirmed, smoking her own cigarette and staring blankly at me. She flicked off the ashes and sat down on a nearby chair, crossing her legs. She pointed to the pendant with the cigarette. "Do you know why you're not dead now?"

I grasped my pendant, biting my lip.

"Let me tell you something...if the car hadn't killed Setsuko, Krad would have done her in a long time ago."

After they had left, I sat by him on the side of the couch, praying for his life. Ken had assured me he was alright, but I remained convinced that the pendant severely hurt him.

I thought about what Ken told me afterwards. He revealed that Sayuri kept her distance from us all these years because she did not want to get attached to Krad's new vessel. He would somehow learn to use Souta against her. As for keeping Setsuko away from us, it wasn't that she didn't want us influencing her, she didn't want Krad to somehow use Setsuko for his own evil ends or possibly kill her. She and Ken had left us to our own devices when we were children because they did not want to make themselves "vulnerable".

Ken also mentioned that him and Sayuri were pondering separating Souta and I when he first started having nightmares, because he expressed his doubts that the necklace had any powers at all. He said Hideki had been trying to make a successful tool against Krad for years.

Ironically, while Hideki was working on a prototype of the "Krad repellent device", he accidentally trapped an angel's spirit inside a music box. The original purpose of "Angel of the Night" was to relieve the Hikari male from nocturnal visions. Thus, Souta wouldn't be troubled by his nightmares.

But that didn't work out so well: Isabella was only a choir angel, when he was really calling on the help of a warrior angel to cast himself into an Hikari art piece to battle Krad. He did not know at the time that Isabella could only be freed by singing her song.

Feeling silly and degraded, he thought he might as well give the failed device to his four year old grand daughter.

He hadn't stopped there. With a summoning spell, he supposedly contacted a Thunder Kitsune spirit who would give him some of his energy for the pendant he was constructing. The Kitsune agreed. Apparently Krad was quite famous for his brutality in the spirit world, as was his Niwa counterpart for thievery, Dark.

Sounded unbelievable and the words of a madman, but after what happened, I accepted the existence of magic and otherworldly spirits.

It finally occurred to me that Krad was at the heart of all of our problems, not Sayuri and Ken.

After all of these disturbing facts being poured on me like water from a bucket, I just wanted Souta to wake up so I could take him in my arms.

* * *

"Rio?"

I opened my eyes, peering into the purple sky and wondering where the voice came from. I was delirious and tired, and had completely forgotten what happened last night. In a second it all came back to me: I had fallen asleep on the couch with Souta. I propped myself up in an instant, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"It's you, Souta?" I drowsily whispered.

His cold hand wrapped around mine. "Rio."

Our eyes met.

"He said..'Til next time'. I can't.." he shook his head, crying.

"Until next time? What do you.."

"I can't be with you anymore. I'm sorry."

I stood there in awe, thinking he had gone mad. How could he just separate himself from me? How could he? No, he can't be serious. He just woke up after a frightening encounter. He wasn't thinking straight. He's not going anywhere. He's staying right here with me. I'm not going to leave him when he is in this state.

"No." I shook my head fiercely, overcome by anger. "No."

"Rio--"

"I said no!" I shouted. He flinched as more tears dripped down his pale face.

"But..I kept on seeing lights, Rio. They were everywhere. And I saw you too.."

"What?"

"In my dreams. Lights and you. You were crying..and bleeding, Rio. I can't." He shook his head. "Not when I know...you're going to die. Just like Setsuko. I saw it. I knew it was coming," he gulped, whispering as if no one else could know, "And he knew too. We both saw the car.."

"Souta, what are you saying?!"

"Just before the car came, I saw it. Setsuko wanted to go into the street. I told her to wait for Sayuri. She didn't listen to me. No one listened to me. But I saw it.." he sobbed helplessly. "I knew."

Later I was to find out the tolling bells and the lights were not the only precognitive dreams he had. He claimed he had seen a blood stained wheel chair and wrinkled hands, and teeth. He made special emphasis on the teeth. They were clenched in agony, encased in withered, bloody lips. And then he saw shadows with guns.

The following night, a policeman came to our house, informing Sayuri her parents had died.

* * *

I hate not having the Internet on my computer. There is no way to post new documents on the site unless you have a flash drive carrying your documents around, and you can find the Internet somewhere else. But I don't have a flash drive! Blah..

This is a lot of stuff to cover. A life time is a complicated thing to document, considering that thousands of important things could happen to the person in just one year.

Probably won't be able to update for a long time.


	9. The Age Of Reckoning

_Chapter Nine: The Age of Reckoning_

My brother took a disturbing turn of disposition in the coming months. He did what I feared he would do eventually: he withdrew.

He was no longer the Souta I knew him as. He created a pattern where he would open up, then quickly disappear inside his bothersome shell. His smiles became rare, and his laughs, even rarer. He would walk about the mansion with his eyes narrowed, his shirt tucked neatly in his school uniform, his hands buried in his pockets, just like his emotions. He acted as though nothing concerned him anymore.

His fear of Sayuri and Ken faded, and he sunk into a state of mental and physical tranquility. Whenever I talked to him, he would answer calmly and tersely, much to my agitation. After that night when he told me of his precognitive dreams, everything that made him who he was died.

Souta's behavior plunged me into an interlude of depression. I was grateful just for the fact that we still slept in the same bed together. But he would always have his head turned away from my chest, far away on the other side. He had severed us completely, creating a deepening rift in our relationship.

I couldn't bear him leaving me. I fell into episodes similar to Sayuri's beating fits, except I would not take my anger out on the perpetrator. I flung things at the wall, smashing all my mirrors, and using the shattered pieces to rip open the stomachs of my stuffed animals.

I stomped down the halls, tearing down the knights and denting their armor with their own weapons. Much to my despair, my temper tantrums didn't concern him in the slightest: he told Ken how "childish" I was being, and left the house.

My insomnia worsened, and I was plagued by my stress over his condition and many sleepless nights. The circles under my eyes thickened, my hair grew more unmanageable.

Then one day I realized that every aspect of my life was harder without Souta by my side. My hair seemed thicker, my face seemed uglier, and my white gowns looked yellow to me. I could find nothing to derive happiness from, and so I sulked about the mansion, hating everyone.

I hated Ken because he did not seem to care. I hated Sayuri because she was the one who encouraged Souta's behavior in the first place. And I hated Souta because he adopted the advice.

* * *

The world was silent as I peered from my balcony at a pink firmament. The hot air whispered in my curls, soothing me somewhat. I felt that feeling again. Like my insides were being torn apart by malignant little worms. My stomach churned as I contemplated a painful question: Did he even love me anymore?

Tears streamed from my eyes, as they did every night I slept on the vacant side of the bed. I wept helplessly on the balcony; hating him, hating him!

The doors creaked open. Souta slid nonchalantly inside, finger combing his black mane. His eyes were fixed on the bed, not on me. We hardly ever made eye contact anymore. He sits and falls down on it, propping his legs lazily over the edge as he plays with his hair.

I growled in bitter jealousy. Anger simmered inside me as I recalled the days when _I _would be the one running my fingers through his hair, admiring the dark waves upon his head. But now I was not allowed to touch him anymore.

Returning my attention to the balcony, I continued staring down at the garden below, thinking of Setsuko staring up at me. Calling me. Dirt mars her cheeks, and her eyes are the deepest ocean blue. So serene. So calm. As she calls for me.

She lifts up her arms, reaching out. She smiles. Everything around her is molded and decayed, immersed in moss, poison ivy and dust.

The notion leaves my head as soon as it was conceived. The garden reverts back to its colorful magnificence, restored to its lonely, blooming tempest of flowers.

What a nice thought, to know your sister is buried right outside your bedroom balcony.

"Excuse me?" I hear a frail voice from behind me.

I turn around, and to my surprise, it's Souta. Why hadn't I recognized his voice? Had he not only changed in appearance and personality, but speech too? Why do his words come out so smoothly, without a single mistake? Why does it sound so eloquent, so foreign?

Choosing my words became a task difficult to tame; in the absence of this skill, I sought to just blurting out any thought that passed through my mind. "Why are you talking like that? Is that what they teach you in school now?" I inquired icily.

He sat up on the bed.

"Etiquette." He says tersely. "And no, my previous school curriculum didn't emphasize this speech. I go to a new school now."

I shook my head. "Why are you using those big words? You didn't talk like that before. Souta, are you still my brother?"

"Of course I am, I've always been and always will be."

His calm face irked me. I wanted to wipe it off of his face forever. But I could think of no other way to accomplish that than to say something unexpected.

"Bullshit."

He barely flinched. "Why are you using such vulgar language?"

My cursing did not move him. My last pathetic attempt at changing him failed. Destroying everything around me didn't work. Entering fits of passion didn't work. And when I realized he was really serious about staying this way, well...this is when I officially flew off the handle.

"Because I knew _Souta _wouldn't care! I cursed when I was six and so did you! Not a lot, but we still did!"

"That was when we were little. Things are different now," he said, crossing his arms, taking care to preserve his tranquil countenance.

"Oh, so ignoring me and sleeping on the opposite side of the bed isn't enough for you, huh? You have to stop cursing now?"

"Rio.." he started, "I don't understand. You and I were very afraid of cursing. And we only did it if we knew that Mother was at a fair distance--"

I backed away, horrified by what he just uttered. "Wait...why...why are you calling her that? Mother..? N-no! We can't do that, Souta! We swore we wouldn't ever call her that! Never! We swore!"

"And how old were we when we took this sacred vow? Four? Five?" He mocked.

"Five!" I shouted. "I can't believe you don't remember! Is this how you act in school? No wonder you don't have friends!"

And I hit home with that one.

His lip quivered, "R-Rio..? But I thought you would understand.."

I admit my fury was getting a little out of hand, especially taking into account that I had completely forgotten about his alter ego.

"I bleed for five days every damn month now! And every time I do, my stomach hurts like hell, I get the _headache_ from hell, and my breasts feel like they're about to fall off my chest! I get beat like I'm a vicious dog! I've been beaten like an animal ever since I was three! I can't go to school, my grandparents are dead, my _sister's_ dead, and now you!"

"But--"

"As if I need a brother who acts like a stranger, avoids me all the time, and never talks to me as the cherry on top of my fucking fantastic life!"

"I don't understand." He murmured solemnly, averting his eyes away from me.

"I'll help you!" I spat, running up to him and slapping him right across the face. He flew back and grasped his cheek, no longer wearing his mask of indifference. I had gotten what I wanted, but the approach to seize my desire was reckless and stupid.

He stumbled to his feet and stood, gaping at me. For a few moments he just stood there, motionless in his cloud of confusion and fear. His hand shook upon his cheek as his emotions overtook him, and he bursted into tears, "I was...I was only trying to...God, you're just like Sayuri!"

He fled from me.

I flinched as the double doors slammed shut, sending their powerful echoes throughout the walls of my room. I fell upon my knees and stared at the doors, lost in my shame.

Then I wept.

* * *

Much to my horror and amazement, Sayuri beat me...hard. I screamed out, raking at the edges of the couch, crying for mercy. She was ruthless. Her flogging took me back to when I was six years old, and I was severely beaten for venturing into the East Wing and fidgeting with the chains wrapped around the infamous Black Wings.

Souta was there with me that day, of course, but it was safe to say that I received my punishment with interest. Souta was only beaten for a few minutes; I was beaten on and off for over an hour.

After she was done, I was tittering off the edge of delirium into unconsciousness, finding it difficult to think straight. A terrible throbbing assailed my back, as if it were suffering from sunburn, or Sayuri had just got done pouring hot wax on it.

It hurt to close or open my eyelids. When I looked about the room, everything was a blurry, colorful mess of weird shapes and sizes. The grandfather clock seemed like a tolling tower looming over me, ready to swallow me whole.

I recalled that the clock did not originally belong to her. Not long after we received news that the elder Hikaris had died, Ken and Sayuri did not hesitate to seize all of Ritsuko's fortune, estate, and possessions.

They waltzed in their home and pointed at the things that they wanted, arguing over who should get certain paintings and the like. When Sayuri came upon the grandfather clock, she remembered a time when Ritsuko had locked her in there and forced her to sleep in it.

Then she simply ordered two men to carry it out of the house and place it in her room.

I only include this irrelevant memory because it simply happened to be remembered upon sight of the old thing.

Next to the grandfather clock, I saw a black box opened, its contents exposed. It looked like a treasure box filled with old newspaper articles. But my vision altered it into a black shadow with a white hat, the key hole looking like its golden teeth. Everything looked more or less like a monster to me, so I closed my eyes, praying these sneering shapes would dissipate, and I would be overcome by sleep.

It did not come until the red ball bounced down the street. When Setsuko's eyes went dead.

* * *

_I remember the doors. Every one of them was marked with crayon. Blue for the "Sage of Sleep". Red for the "Saint of Tears". Yellow for the "Second Hand of Time". _

_I was overcome by an inexplicable sadness weighing down on me, as if my heart could afford any more weight. I pondered the reason of my sadness, and it occurred to me that I had lost something. Brought onto me were memories of losing various cherished childhood toys, such as Mrs. Cat, or that fuzzy penguin Souta was scared of when he was a baby. But that fuzzy penguin was not really lost at all; Souta had hid it from me so I wouldn't place it in his arms while he slept._

_But all the while I tortured my conscience, believing the reason was within myself, I couldn't shake the feeling of impending peril. Something was not as it should have been._

_Suddenly, I was blinded by a white light._

_The corridor was within clear view. There was a massive crowd just a few feet from me. A crowd of shadows. Shadows with guns. _

_Sayuri was among them, shouting at me. She pointed at me, as if accusing me of a crime. Not more than a second after I had been denounced for some unknown deed, I was snatched away by Ken, a maid, and two house guards. Every person held a gun in their hand, with the exception of Ken and I._

"_Sayuri! For the love of God!" Ken screamed, as a storm of gunshots immediately rang in my __ears._

The light from the sun stung my eyelids, burning away my dreams and giving me remembrance of the events of yesterday. I stirred on the bed of my room, dazed and confused. Why would I be here? Who brought me here?

I opened my eyes. With the utmost discomfort, I tried to prop myself up. My weak limbs gave out on me, and I plopped right back to my previous position. Groaning in annoyance, I tried again. My attempt was intercepted by Souta, who quickly pushed me down, "You can't move like this. Don't you know how hurt you are?"

My eyesight adjusted. A swirling vortex of black and blue slowly morphed into Souta's perfect, pale face. His eyes were darker than I had remembered them, glimmering at me. I was surprised they were not grey. His hair was as orderly and kept as it ever was; not a single hair was out of place.

The sight of his pleading blue eyes, threatening to turn grey if I ruined his content temper, almost convinced me to repent for what I had done. One side of me objected to the exuberance of apology, and I stubbornly heeded to it.

"Mm...leave me alone, Souta. What I said yesterday...it hasn't changed..." I growled, turning away from him. No, I can't see your eyes. They're like pining children. They want me to apologize. Well, I won't! I _won't!_

"I know you're mad at me, and I forgive you for that already, because I know your senses will return to you in due time, and you'll want to apologize then. You don't have to now. But I would appreciate it if you thanked me for carrying your bloody, limp body all the way to our room." He snapped.

"It was your fault that I was bloody and limp," I said, closing my eyes tighter, "I won't give one kind word to someone I don't know. And I don't know you. As far as I'm concerned, we're not brother and sister."

He paused, speaking with a broken voice, "I can't believe you. I thought you would understand."

"I'm a very understanding person," I began, glowering at him, "I understand that my brother isn't you. My brother wouldn't tell Sayuri—of all people—that I slapped him."

"I..." his voice trailed off, and he abandoned the thought of defending himself any further.

His lack of communication paved the way for my stupidity and ignorance to rein supreme. Thus, I was free to accuse him of whatever I pleased. I was a girl mended in her ways; when struck with Souta's departure from our once intimate relationship, I became cold and indifferent.

"Fine. I will, then. Goodbye, Rio. I'm not sleeping here anymore." He said with, undoubtedly, a broken heart. He sauntered angrily to the doors, opening them while my eyes followed. He turned around once more to face me; and, with tears in his hatred filled eyes, he said:

"Believe, though you hate me now, that I do love you, and thats the reason why I'm acting like I don't. And what I was going to say before you struck me is that..." He squeezed his fists. _"I'm sorry."_

I only stared, unsure of what to feel. My glare softened into inquiring eyes.

"...You heard what Sayuri said, didn't you? About how her brother hung himself in her bedroom closet? Well, right after she was finished, Krad told me how "delightful" it would be to hang _you_ in our bedroom closet."

The doors slammed shut.

* * *

For a few weeks, our hatred of each other was mutual; as such, we ignored one another whenever the opportunity presented itself. But, as no one would give him a room in fear of his alter ego, he was forced to sleep in my bed every night.

We recently had an auction of a sort for the possessions in our room that belonged to both of us.

The possessions that were first in line were our stuffed animals.

There were not many to choose from, seeming as I had destroyed most of them in a bout of frustration and despair.

Souta first suggested that stuffed animals were childish playthings and were now useless to him, as he was not a child anymore. I begged to differ; once I threated to decapitate Mrs. Cat if he did not retrieve her, he snatched her from my hands and threw her into his heap of personal belongings.

I threw the fuzzy penguin at him, hoping he would jump back in fright. But he was right, he wasn't a child anymore. He looked upon the old thing with repulsion, glimpsed at me, and tossed it into his pile.

I took no felines from the stuffed animal patch because they reminded me of Mrs. Cat, who was Souta's favorite, so he got all of them. I took all the dogs, sympathizing with them; if I pissed on the carpet or relieved myself in the flower bed, my nose would be shoved in it too.

Next in line was our collection of 19th century porcelain dolls, Ritsuko's cherished assembly, which we received after her sudden death. That was an easy one: Souta got all of the little boys dressed in tuxedos and wearing masquerade masks and the like; I got all of the girls donning frilly dresses with spiral curls and umbrellas.

Then it went to our belongings such as small blankets, bibs, favorite bottles and rattles, which we requested from Ken as reminders of our infancy. He was glad to give them to us. Sayuri didn't want them either, since she loathed childbearing and anything related to it.

That was separated without too much of a hassle.

Lastly, was our bed. Souta gave it up without a fight. He reasoned that he wouldn't want to kick me out of the room if the empty recesses would provoke depression or long forgotten memories of our childhood together.

"Your suffering would please me," he said.

He seemed to really resent me for disapproving of his new disposition. But how could I not? The shy, timid, adorable little Souta shifted to the grown, brave, mature Souta, in such a little span of time.

And now, we are completely separated.

Other matters deserved concern also, besides his new personality and countenance.

His nightmares, his elusive little demon, and his visions plagued him more prevalently then they had before. He disclosed that not only had he been suffering from frequent phantasm, but that he has dealt with it since the cradle.

His new dreams, as he explained them to Ken, were seeing his bedroom covers bathed in blood, which he saw as a sign that he was going to murder me while I slept. This dream nurtured his aversion to sleeping near me.

The lights in his head flickered ceaselessly, which he interpreted as either the glimmers of heaven or the fires of hell.

In his latest and most thought provoking dream of all, an angel was wounded. He said it bled from his stomach. His wings were transparent and decaying. He didn't seem to be too surprised that he was injured, for something else was occupying his attention. The sound of sirens.

And like the bells, they never stopped.

Souta sought comfort in his unreliable parents, seeing as there were no options left for him; just as he had abandoned me, I did so to him.

Sayuri insisted that solitude would cure his pains. She advised that he adhere to the ancient Buddhist belief—shunning all desire to find inner peace and cease suffering. She reasoned that if he just let go of everything, his life would be easier.

To him, leaving everything behind meant that he would no longer feel my soft curls against his skin, no longer scoff at Haruko as she passed him in the hallway, but secretly loving her too, or confiding in someone he could call a friend.

Letting everything go meant that he would die. And as the months fell off the calendar, and his birthday crawled closer to us...I began to think that death was exactly what he desired, more than anything. But since he could not obtain it—he suffered.

Ken tried his best to be a father, giving wise counsel and soothing his son's tortured conscience, but there were times when he succumbed to occasional relapses. He had a violent temperament in the past, thanks to being exposed to Sayuri for far too long.

Her corrupt influence seeped into his veins again, bringing on a furious spirit in him. Krad's past deeds had succeeded in depriving Ken of his sanity at times, so Souta tried his hardest to keep what he was feeling inside.

Many nights, he never came to bed. Instead, he would mope about my room at all hours of the night, clutching his head and telling someone to 'Stop'. I had woken up once or twice to find him in the middle of a seizure, only to fall limp moments later. I lept out of bed to assist him. He woke up a few minutes later in a daze, claiming he didn't need any help and to get to sleep immediately.

Aside from complaining of his night terrors, Souta took up the Hikari reputation: painting masterpieces to shield oneself from reality.

That worked out well for him. Never before did he express the joy it brought him to stand before a 2 foot long canvas and paint whatever melancholy images his mind brought to him. But now painting became his daily occupation. Eighty percent of the time, he was in Sayuri's bedroom (that was where all of the supplies were kept), painting away.

It was only when he ventured elsewhere that I was able to see what he had created. His work was confusing, yet it made sense.

He was painting what he saw in his sleep.

One shown a black chasm, with grey and white infused in a deepening circle. Something you couldn't escape from.

Another shown lights streaking from the bottom of the painting.

Yet another, a bloodstained bed. Wrinkled hands reaching up to the sky, its fingers marred with blood. Teeth. And more teeth. A tooth sitting in a puddle of blood, with shadows looming over it.

The infamous bells. A red ball sitting on the street.

What looked like the shadow of a little girl sleeping on disturbed soil.

And the very last painting was...

My pendant. One wing was broken.

I backed away, suddenly overcome by fear. The terror crawled up my stomach and rocked my rib cage, seizing my heart as it's next victim. While it thudded in my chest, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was not alone. I decided that I shouldn't be in here.

Before I could quit the room, my legs, weakened by fear, gave out on me and I slipped.

I almost hit the ground, but something soft broke my fall. I landed on someone's chest. Before the notion came to me to turn around, slender fingers wrapped themselves around my shoulders. A cloud burst of cigar smoke blew past my face.

The person drew in a breath. And the moment it spoke was when I realized who was holding me.

"He is quite the artist, isn't he?" The words slipped from her mouth flawlessly, immobilizing my already depleted limbs.

"I-I.." I began, trying to ignore the intensifying throbbing of my terrified heart. But my tongue proved to be as weak and idle as my legs, and I could force no further words from my mouth.

"You know you shouldn't be in here." She said, inhaling, which caused her breasts to push against my spine.

"I'll go." I muttered, half conscious of reality, more conscious that I was in great peril, and I just had to get away.

I fled from her while she looked back at me from the corner of her eye, sipping her cigar while in a crouched position by the entrance of her bedroom. Her sight left me, and I turned down another hallway, catching a guard and nervously ordering him to escort me to the ground floor.

* * *

That night, Sayuri didn't sleep. She locked herself in her room, Souta with her. Through the murmurs behind the door, I could hear her talking to him. She said she wanted him to paint the exact image he saw in his dream before Setsuko died. If he refused, she would not set him free.

He was reluctant at first; 'I don't want to bring those things into my head again', he reasoned.

But she wouldn't be swayed. She demanded he do so or she would resort to violence.

Souta was forced to comply. At about 5:00 in the morning, he was sent out. I waited at her bedroom door in a fetal position, about to be consumed by the need for rest, but willing myself not to do so until he was done.

His eyes widened when he met my lethargic figure, listlessly nodding my head back and forth by the wall.

"What are you doing here?" He said in disbelief, running up to me.

"Souta?" I yawned, narrowing my eyes, "Help me up.."

I made no attempt to move. He grabbed me by my arm and hoisted me up. "I'll take you to your room."

"Don't call it that." I mumbled, resting on his shoulder. It made me sad to think of something that was _mine_, not ours.

"Do you want me to carry you the whole way?"

My reply was incoherent. He propped me up on his back, holding me in place by hunching himself over and grasping my legs by my knees. "You can't do that. Sayuri would hurt you if she knew you were outside."

"What did you paint?" I asked drowsily, as if the answer would help lull me to sleep.

"Krad." He said under his breath. "She wanted me to paint what I dreamed before—" he grunted as he holstered me higher on his back—"She died."

"She said that when she shouted at him and called him a murderer, he tripped and fell back with a look of profound fear in his eyes."

"Who wouldn't be afraid...of her..?" I slurred.

"Was there a light behind you too, when Setsuko died?"

I answered the second he finished his sentence. "Yes."

Very unwelcome images flashed in my mind.

He paused. "Then we all saw him. Even...the drunk man."

"I remember...when Ken told me that Setsuko was killed to punish Sayuri." I said.

"Yes, I remember too."

"Is that true?" I asked.

"Why would Ken lie?" He said as he yanked on the handles of the double doors, pushing them open with his foot and taking me inside. "The spirits that govern this family...saw what she was doing to us. So, as payment...they took what she loved most from her."

He laid me down on the bed, taking off my white shoes and placing them next to the bedside, then he pulled the covers up to my shoulders and fluffed my pillow.

"You're...not going to be like this tomorrow." I mumbled, half awake.

"What?"

"Tomorrow...you'll disappear...inside yourself again."

There was a moment of immeasurable silence between us. What was probably only a minute or two of passive reflection seemed like hours. And as I waited for his answer, I grew more unconscious.

Finally, he grasped my cheek and said, "I'm sorry." He rubbed my cheek with his thumb and kissed my forehead. "I..."

He turned away from me and sniffed, wiping his eyes. He got up and dismissed himself from the room, never finishing his sentence.

There were a few things that he was probably going to say to me. Many nights my imagination ran wild, repeating that instance again and again. Each time, he said something different. But it never seemed to fit the puzzle. And when I finally retired from that endless subject, I regretted never asking him what he was going to say.

I remember that night almost better than any other night in my life. The only reason it stood out so much was because I didn't see Setsuko in my sleep. For once...she stayed in her grave. Instead of running around in my head.

Instead of running around in my head...

* * *

Sayuri was inspired to paint after the lurid images Souta had brought out of his tortured head and onto a canvas. I watched from the distance, along with small company that consisted of a few guards and a butler. Ken was standing next to her, still as a statue, only speaking to ask an occasional question. Souta was near him, sitting patiently on the floor of her vast bedroom.

"How come you stopped painting after Rio was born?" He asked.

"Got tired of it," she muttered listlessly, "I had to paint while I was pregnant with Souta because I wanted to keep my mind off of thinking."

"I remember," said Ken.

Souta turned around and, once our eyes met, he quickly averted them to Sayuri's occupation. I scowled and shook my head in frustration. I was right all along. I knew he would go back into his shell in the morning..

But at least he apologized.

Ken caught sight of me. "Hey, Rio," he said jubilantly as he approached me.

"Why are you so happy?" I growled insolently, wanting to destroy his good temper simply because I was suffering from the absence of one.

He hesitated to answer. "Well, for a while...there was a period of time when Sayuri...was getting a little obsessed. It's good to see her doing something else."

"I know. She was always in the meadow," I agreed, as we walked lazily down the corridor.

"Yeah. All that time, I couldn't get her to move. When you're dealing with your Mom--"

I shot him an immediate glare.

"Sayuri. When your dealing with Sayuri--" he reproved, "She can get like that. It's like taking care of a patient with schizophrenia sometimes."

"Schizo...what?"

"It's a mental disease when you don't conceive things like normal people do. You hear things, you smell things, you get a little paranoid.."

"Sayuri doesn't do that. She has a really nasty temper, but she's not insane."

He stopped suddenly to gawk at me. "Hasn't a guard around this place complained to you about anything unusual in her behavior?"

"No, not really—except that she's a bitch." I lied. I didn't want him to be any more ashamed of his wife than he already was.

He rolled his eyes, much to my surprise, when I really expected him to strike me for cursing.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

I smiled. "Where did you learn that saying? I like that."

"I learned it when I was a kid. My father told me it once when he got into a bad argument with my mother. And if marriage had a manual, that saying would be the only thing written in it." He chuckled.

I giggled along with him. I glimpsed behind me, where Sayuri was still painting, Souta still watching.

"Can you paint like Souta and Sayuri?"

He scoffed. "No. I don't have Hikari blood. I can draw one hell of a stick figure, though."

We laughed again.

"Why don't you paint like Sayuri and Souta? It could give you something to do, and you undoubtedly have talent."

"But I've never painted before...well, except in school. But that was just finger painting."

"Doesn't matter. Just do it and watch what happens. The spirits of the Dark Arts bestowed this gift upon you in birth, so you might as well use it."

* * *

Just as he wanted. I was suffering. The room was very, very empty.

So empty.

The bed looked bigger. The pillows looked smaller. Only because they had decreased in number. There was no longer a toy box in here. Mrs. Cat was not sitting on the bureau anymore. The closet, once the source of great fear, was now a dark chasm filled with cobwebs and my dust covered school shoes. My shiny black shoes...

The empty recesses filled me with heavy doubt. Loneliness stung every fiber of my being, hindering me from completing the task at hand.

I sat before the canvas in a depressed slump. What to paint? I've never been the artistic type in my life. I'm not good at anything. How can I even trust that what I create will even come out right?

If I paint a dog, will anybody else even be able to tell its a animal?

Picking up the paint brush, I decided on a sky blue. Maybe I could just start with something simple. If my color is sky blue, then I might as well paint the sky. And I can start off from there when I gain the courage.

All it takes is baby steps. From easy to hard. Simple as that.

My hand quivers as I prepare myself to slide the paint brush against the canvas.

"Rio?"

The voice sounded mature. Yet again it slipped out so smoothly from the lips of the angel who uttered it. So eloquent and tamed. Not the shivering, nervous euphony of the his other half. The part that died.

I slowly turned around. I didn't want to look at his face. Yet I didn't want to ignore him either. I couldn't forgive myself if I ignored him.

He leaned against the doors of my bedroom, looking like a teenage version of my father. His jagged, pitch black bangs were growing longer, shading certain areas of his face. His perfect, sullen, dark blue eyes were narrowed, as they were the day he changed.

He spoke again. "Rio?"

I snapped out of the trance he caught me in. "Yeah?"

Souta walked up to me, taking precise strides. So unlike his other half, whose stride was a little careless and quick.

"So you're painting too, eh?"

"Yeah, so? Whats it to you?" I retorted, crossing my arms.

"Nothing. I was just asking. What are you painting, if I may add?"

"I've been wanting to ask you the same question." I said. "Your work is weird and scary."

"Please don't reverse it on me. I asked you first."

I sighed. "I don't know. I never did this before."

"Thats what I thought the first time, too. But then I just did it, and...now I don't think that anymore."

"How do you paint that stuff?"

He mused briefly. "I think of something that I want to get out of my head. Then I choose the colors. About an hour later, there it is, on the canvas. Out of my head."

"So when you paint, it takes away the bad thoughts?"

"Only temporary. They always come back. So I have to paint it again. Its like draining water from a sponge."

A few moments of silence ensued.

"Souta, do you still think about Setsuko? Do you still dream about her?"

He pursed his lips together, squinting his eyes. His chin quivered for a few seconds. Seeing as he about to cry, I reproached myself.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to--"

"No."

"What? You don't?"

"No, its not that. Its...that question. I was going to ask you that same question...just now."

I gasped. "R-really?"

"Yes. And yes...I do. I think about her a lot. Even though its been so long...I still find myself thinking about her. And sometimes, I see her. In other girls faces. Sometimes I pass by the park where she died. Theres a sign there that says 'No Ball Playing', now."

"Are you serious? Do you think its because of what happened?"

"Of course it is."

I shrunk away from him, letting my arms rest on my lap. I peered at my paint brush. "I think about her a lot too. She never really left." I looked up at him. "Do you think it will work?"

"What?"

"If I paint Setsuko, will she go away?"

"If you have what I have, yes. But she'll come back..." He turned away from me. "Everything always comes back."

As soon as he had come, he was gone, disappearing behind the double doors.

* * *

The sun rose into the sky as the peaceful orb of vermilion lighting up the Earth, suffusing every dark crevice in my room and casting shadows of me and the canvas upon the wall.

Setsuko stood before me now. Her features were so magnificently detailed, it was frightening.

Just like Ken had told me.

My hands were blessed by the spirits of the dark arts. I was a natural born artist.

I must have stared at that painting for hours, my hands twitching every now and again. I was so nervous, so scared...so...pleased.

I thought I had no talent at all. And look what I did! It's as if Setsuko is standing there right now...staring at me. Calling me.

Dirt mars her cheeks. A background of poison ivy and dust. And her eyes are so serene. So calm. As she calls for me.

I didn't realize how lost I was in the painting until I heard someone draw in a shaky breath from behind me. I didn't even hear anyone walk in the room. How could anyone be that quiet?

Immediately perceiving that Souta had seen my work of art, I turned around to commence my boasting.

Indeed, it was Souta. But he was not facing me, nor did he have a look of awe upon his face. He had his back turned, staring at the mirror, as if he were studying himself.

"Souta?"

He bit his lip, averting his eyes to the dresser in shame.

"Souta, is there something wrong?"

"Last night...I had a nightmare. So I went downstairs and..."

I inched closer, crawling over the bed on my hands and knees, in the gait of a slow paced dog. "Yes?"

"Well, I was going to go downstairs, but I just sat on the staircase instead, watching."

"Watching...what?"

"Kayako." He mumbled, "And Ken."

"What were they doing?"

His eyes squinted in disgust, and he withdrew from the dresser, stepping back a few steps, only to land on the bed. "They were...kissing."

Ken's unfaithfulness was a subject I expected to reveal itself sooner or later—but not with _Kayako_, of all people. Maybe Midoriko, taking into account her flirtatious nature. Or a maid with the disposition of the one Souta caught a few years ago with a guard, her clothes pulled down to her waist. But certainly not _Kayako_; she would do anything to assure that she did not get fired or was never on bad terms with Sayuri. Was it because of her pay, or was it because she was in love with my father?

I thought the whole charade of secrecy—well kept secrecy at that; I could never have guessed—was actually comical. Souta was a pit perturbed by the idea, but I thought it was funny.

I can't believe I hadn't seen it before. No wonder he trusted Setsuko to the her care. In Sayuri's absence, Setsuko needed a mother. When Kayako volunteered, it would be only be a product of the natural succession of events for Ken to develop an interest in her. Seeing her so kind and maternal, everything that his wife was not, unlocked feelings for her. And Kayako, upon seeing his interest, developed feelings as well. It seemed as the inevitable consequence given the circumstances.

The woman he married was a brooding and foul tempered creature; beautiful though she may be, she was a monster on the inside. And then Kayako comes along; she is compassionate and motherly, even mourning Setsuko's death as if she were her real mother.

"Don't you think that they make a good couple?" I asked, after I had given him my reasons behind my conclusion.

"Well...its not that they aren't a good couple...I mean, I'm sure they would be a lot happier together than he would ever be with Sayuri, but...but..."

"But what?"

"But he's _married_. And if you ask me, his relationship—with a housemaid, of all the types of women he is capable of dating—isn't really setting a good example to his children."

I was astonished. "Souta, how is it that you're so wise and I'm not? You sound just like a parent."

"Because Ken told me."

"What?"

"He said that if you marry someone, its a fight to the end."

"A fight?"

"Yes. To stay together. Even though he loves Kayako, he won't allow himself to leave Sayuri. I know it."

"Why not?"

"Because that's what he believes."

I thought about this as we sat at the dinner table. Ken's eyes were completely on his food. He ate peacefully, blissfully unaware that I was not ignorant of his dealings with Kayako.

Sayuri was blissfully unaware as well; and even though Souta believed deep in his heart that the romance between Ken and Kayako was forbidden, he had no mind to inform her of it.

Neither had I. Now that I meditate on the subject, I do think it is a fitting punishment for all the senseless beatings I was forced to endure at her hands. Knowing that her marriage is ruined, which is probably the basis of her life, is ample revenge for me. Had this not happened, I would still be wishing upon her a slow and insufferably painful death for all she has yet to account to.

I studied her face carefully. It had the same hint of carelessness in it, with its slight touch of hostility, but something deep in her eyes...something so deep...looked pained. She looked like she almost knew.

Her eyes averted to me in an instant.

"What the hell are you staring at, you little bitch?" She spat, slamming her fist on the table. Ken immediately placed his fork on his plate, resounding in a loud clank. His eyes met hers in a second.

"Sayuri." He said authoritatively.

She deliberately ignored him. "I asked you what you were looking at! Did I or did I not give you a fucking tongue to speak with?"

"Sayuri!" He roared.

"You are not part of this conversation. Keep you damn mouth shut." She said sharply.

I remained silent. Though I must admit, behind my reserved countenance lay a frightened little girl. My heart was beating so loud I could hear its monotone beats sound in my ears.

Sayuri stood up at once, undoubtedly with the intentions of beating an answer out of me, to which Ken stood up simultaneously.

"Sayuri! Sit your ass down!"

"Who the hell runs things around here, you bastard! How fucking dare you tell me what to do!"

She picked up a knife and attempted to ward him off with it. You may or may not recall, but when I was six, they found themselves in a similar brawl. They had fought over the newspaper; but in that particular instance, she had tried to stab him with her high heel. Now she had a knife in her hand.

Souta once told me of a time where she had cut Ken before, apparently just to see what it looked like. With my imagination and view on how sane Sayuri was, I thought she had occasional psychopathic tendencies; as a result of this, she sometimes went into a frenzy just for the sight of blood to calm her aroused nerves.

But that was just my opinion. Souta would later claim that they had argued before dinner, and it was not brought to physical violence, which was a strange preference of Sayuri's on how to end a disagreement.

To us, this fight was a traditional way of resolving conflict between them. We had been exposed to these quarrels for so long, it became customary for them to engage in fist fights right at the sanctity of the dinner table.

Souta was hardly moved by the whole event; he calmly ate his dinner while Ken tried desperately to disarm her. I thought this odd; when I slapped him, he gave me an expression of such profound surprise that I thought that this fight was an even greater cause for alarm to him.

This peculiarity of character, Souta's inhumane tranquility, only seemed to improve with each passing day, as was the pugnacious nature of their marriage.

The war-like ways of Sayuri and Ken's relationship reached its peak weeks later, on the most dreaded day of the entire year.

Souta's birthday.

Ken finally started to do his job as a father. He suggested that Sayuri keeping me from school on the grounds of causing Setsuko's death was utterly ridiculous.

I woke up at 7:30 in the morning when Ken nudged my shoulder. His groggy figure did not align itself completely in my blurred vision when he said, "Get up. Its time for school."

At first I smacked his hand away, groaning that I wasn't going to school today, or any day, and to leave me alone.

Then he viciously pulled me out of bed and threw me on the floor. I woke up instantly to the sight of his tightened fist. My eyes traveled up his body, stopping at his face. He had that stern look on his face—the kind of look he issued when he was reading old and tattered books in the library—one of complete determination.

"What are you doing? You can't take me to school. Its not allowed."

"Sayuri doesn't control everything. You're going to school, and thats that."

We were just on our way downstairs when Sayuri happened to pass us. I was getting used to the feeling of being in my shiny black shoes again. But the interlude of reliving long forgotten memories of my school days was interrupted when her voice rang in my ears.

"And where the hell do you think you're going, huh?"

I gasped as my eyes fell on her. Souta remained as composed and calm as he was before she came. Ken's arms wrapped themselves around our shoulders as an insurance policy.

"She's going to school. Did or did not your mother give you eyes to see with? Let us through."

"NO." She stamped her foot, which apparently was the cue of several guards to barricade the front door. They stood behind her as her soldiers while we cowered on the steps, completely defenseless. Or at least _I_ was cowering on the steps. Souta's expression was emotionless and unreadable. Ken only grew braver in his attempts.

He shouted for all to hear: "If you think that Rio is not responsible for her sister's death, raise your hand!"

And to my shock, hundreds of hands flew up. Just the sight of all those hands—high up in the air, as if they were praising me—I felt tears begging to release themselves from my eyes. Were more people on my side than I originally thought? Did they think I was innocent all that time, but were just as afraid of Sayuri as I was?

"What the hell does this have to do with Setsuko?" She shouted back to him.

"This has _everything_ to do with Setsuko!" He cried, as a gargantuan crowd of his followers walked up the steps to create a shield against Sayuri's small army.

"She...she.." Sayuri muttered helplessly, upon seeing she was outnumbered. "She_ is_ responsible! If she hadn't--"

"What you don't seem to realize is that the blame cannot be pinned to any individual person. In truth, everyone had taken their part in her demise."

The whole room fell silent. All the murmurings were hushed as he continued.

"How is it your place to know who really caused it? If it can be pinned to a certain individual, then you've got quite a mess on your hands. Tell me, is it Rio's fault because she let go of her hand? Were the small group of little boys at fault because they were careless with their ball? Was it Souta's fault because he failed to exert proper authority over his younger sisters? Was it my fault because I wasn't there at the time? Or was it the fault of the drunk driver?"

Sayuri made one last attempt to intervene. "M--"

"Maybe it's _your_ fault, because you didn't get to her in time!"

"She let go!" said Sayuri, pointing a frenzied finger at me.

"And was _Rio_ the one who ran into the street? No! Setsuko did! If anything—she killed _herself_!"

Ken led his personal army down the stairs and straight out the door, protecting Souta and I the entire time from Sayuri breaching into the crowd to retrieve us.

* * *

I returned to school with tears in my eyes. It amazed me that he really stood up to Sayuri this time, and for once in her life—she was powerless.

Though I wondered why Ken would want to take me to school now. If he could have pulled this off three years ago, I wouldn't have to suffer so much.

After a few more moments of pondering in the limousine, I finally had the courage to ask him.

"Ken."

"Yeah?" He said, taking his elbow off the window and resting it on his lap.

"Why did you want to take me to school today? Is it really because you were fed up with her? Did you want to teach her a lesson for trying to stab you?"

Ken let out a hearty laugh. "Of course not. Sayuri has tried to kill me on numerous occasions; to tell you the truth, I'm used to it. I'm not going to stoop to her level and try to "teach" her anything. What I told her—she already knew. I actually told her that the day Setsuko died."

"And...I guess I have a little confession to make. For the duration of those three years—I did believe that you really were responsible. But it was only because I heard no arguments to the contrary, and I was too afraid to make one of my own. I didn't want Sayuri to punish you even further than the extent that she already had. She had taken away everything from you. And I was right by her side, being the great father I was."

"All my life, I believed that marriage was a fight to the end. A fight to stay together. And the way I saw it: If I stayed out of her way, we wouldn't argue as much. But then I learned that that isn't the way you handle a marriage. Sayuri saw me as less than she was—just a lowly apprentice in her crimes. And after hearing what Souta had to say, well...I wanted to show her otherwise."

"What Souta said?"

Souta nodded. "Yes. As a fulfillment of my birthday wish."

"What was your wish?" I asked.

"For you to come to school with me today."

The limousine came to a stop. Ken opened the door and stepped out, intimating that we do the same.

We stood in front of the school building—not the building I originally thought was Azumano High—and Ken got back in the limousine and waved to us. In a moment, it had sped off into the street.

Souta stroked the strap of his backpack, as if he were contemplating something.

"Whats wrong?"

"Aside from the fact that I'm fourteen?"

"Is that the only reason why you're upset?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

He sighed. "Do you remember what is supposed to happen today?"

"Yes. Krad is going to take over your body." I frowned, turning away from him.

"No."

"What?"

"Today is the day when he decides who is worthy of his tamer's body. And he just deemed me unworthy."

* * *

Sorry for the extremely long chapter. This is actually the longest chapter I have ever written. In second place is Chapter one of the _Depth of Feeling_.

I had so much to cover before Souta turned fourteen that it came out as a really long chapter. Oh yeah, I got the internet back! Wee!


	10. Brother & Sister

This is an _extremely_ long chapter. I hope you enjoy. And thank you so much for your reviews; I cherish each and every one.

* * *

_Chapter Nine: Brother & Sister_

The halls were cold and white, brightly illuminated, in the likeness of a hospital. An amalgam of different scents spread out into the atmosphere; among them the smell of paint due to construction, baking soda and alcohol from the Biology room, and the succulent smell of cinnamon and cookie dough from the Consumer Science room.

"Where are we going?" I asked, grasping his hand. A sudden fear overwhelmed me. The thought of seeing hundreds of strangers in the hallways was frightening, having not been exposed to them for quite some time.

He let out a small gasp and glanced at our intertwined fingers, then at me.

"We're...going to homeroom." He said, harboring confusion in his flawless face. Strangely, it relieved me to see him perplexed. Most of the time, he rarely entertained other expressions than one of complete inner peace.

I eyed him curiously. "Homeroom? Whats that?"

His lips creased into a shy smile. "When we get to the classroom, please don't ask questions like that. Make it seem like we go to different schools, and you're not quite sure how things go around here. That was an obvious question you just asked, and if someone were to hear...it'd be very embarrassing."

I tilted my head in shame. "Sorry."

"A homeroom is the primary classroom of the day where middle and high school students go to sign their attendance cards. From there, its the normal schedule."

"Oh, I see." I smiled, grasping his hand tighter. I did this for two reasons; the first being was that I was still frightened of being around a classroom full of people I've never met before; secondly, was that some rebellious spirit in me wanted to defy Krad.

I was infuriated knowing that Krad was so possessive over his tamers. He had stolen my brother from me completely. At that time, I wanted nothing more than to spite him.

I was to learn later that was not a wise decision.

Souta averted his eyes to our intimacy again. He seemed slightly perturbed by the sight, for obvious reasons. He looked back at me and yanked his hand away from mine, seeming annoyed.

"Don't provoke him." He mumbled, clenching the fist I had previously held.

My heart broke inside of me; whether or not he could tell, I didn't know. I swore I could feel my lip quivering as I turned away from him.

Pathetically, I struggled to fight grief, but my feelings were so powerful that I knew I would submit to them in the following seconds.

For the briefest moment, I could feel what I thought was the soft brush of his hand against my arm. When the touch disappeared, I immediately concluded that he had attempted to comfort me, only to be intercepted by a crude comment Krad had made in the depths of his mind.

A small tear slipped down my heated cheeks and fell on the floor. My hands trembled uncontrollably as I tried desperately to control my actions. Before I could censor myself, I broke into the imminent sobs I had been dreading.

I had never loathed myself more than that moment; as to how I could be so easily overcome by the interruption of a intimate gesture, I did not fathom.

His soft fingers brushed against my curls, sliding down the length of them. We turned to stare at each other, getting lost in this moment as if nothing existed previous to it.

"I'm sorry. I can't do things like that anymore."

The bell sounded throughout the school, startling us both. I fled to the other side of him while a few students retreated from homeroom. Their eyes issued fleeting glances at my frightened ones in an instant; some never cared to remove them.

As more students ran out of their homerooms, several of them stopped for a second to study this strange girl standing next to Souta.

The sight of me gave birth to whispers and murmurings. Among them, I heard, "Who's that girl? She looks like Sayuri Hikari. Is that her daughter? What is she doing here? I didn't know Souta had a girlfriend. Is she crying?"

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the immense humiliation I felt. Souta grabbed my hand again—much to my shock—and led me away from the inquiring crowd.

We trotted down the steps nervously, all the while preserving our silence. Why did I allow myself to cry right then and there? Could I not save my grief for another time, when Souta and I were protected by solitude? Why was I so lost in his grieved, gray ocean?

A strong blush crawled up my cheeks. I felt like my face had ignited. I was walking the hallway with him to his new class, and then I disgrace us both by bursting into tears! Humiliating..

He led me down to what I assume was the basement of the school. The interior was aligned with abandoned classrooms on the right side. The widows were blackened and barricaded, save the few rays of sunlight that managed to infiltrate the crevices, which were not many. The floor was black and filthy, strewn with old papers and fragments of broken desks.

I stepped on a pencil and the crack made me jump. I yelped, covering my mouth a moment after it was uttered. The pathetic sound echoed into the blackness. He rested a hand on my shoulder to calm me.

"Don't worry. There's nothing here. It's a little dark and old, but there's no rats or anything. I know; I've been to this place dozens of times."

"Why? This isn't one of your classes."

"I know. But people don't bother me here." He whispered as he led to me into one of the classrooms.

It looked just like a normal classroom if you put aside the dust, cobwebs, and darkened interior. There was even small pieces of chalk sitting on the board ledge, along with some ancient math problems, some of the numbers having been blurred out. The chalk was transformed into a heap of dust the moment I touched it. A white cloud burst in my face; I stepped back and giggled, for some odd reason.

"Whats so funny about that?"

"I don't know. Someone has to make a sound in this haunted trash heap. If theres talking, its not as scary. Anyways, its better than crying, like I was in the hallway."

Souta backed far away from me and rested against the edge of the wall, as if he were trying to escape something that had entered the room.

I looked behind me. "What's wrong?" I said out loud. I lowered my tone. "Is someone here?"

A few seconds of silence, and then: "Rio..I love you."

My heart lurched. "What...?"

Did he really say what I thought he did? Surely my imagination has to be running wild. He hasn't the insanity to say such a thing, considering the psychopath inside him. Did he proclaim his love for me in order to spite Krad, too?

"You heard what I said."

"I did. That was...odd of you." I walked up to him with the intention of embracing him, but he was quick to disengage me.

"Remember it. Because that was the last time I'll ever say it to you."

I stopped in my tracks. "What do you mean?"

"Don't push it. Just sit down, and get comfortable. We're staying here until school is over."

"I wish you would tell me whats in your head." I said, trying to make out the obscure numbers etched on the chalkboard. His figure was engulfed by the darkness around him; it was close to impossible to see him move about, so there were no indicators that validated his existence in this room.

I felt utterly alone. But somehow that did not frighten me. I felt as if I was standing in my own mind.

"You don't want to know whats in my head." He murmured, sliding his fingers over my collar bone. His touch froze me in place.

"Dammit, you did it again."

"Did what?" He said it so smoothly, it didn't even sound like a question. Since I couldn't see him in front of me, I imagined him there; an emotionless creature haunted by everything he left behind.

"Being stealthy without even trying. You snuck up on me before...when I was done painting."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

The room was void of all life until Souta spoke again, filling the room with his heavenly tone of perfection and serenity. "This must be what death is like."

"Death?"

"Yes. It's comforting..." he whispered. "If being asleep forever is as beautiful as this.."

I felt a jab at my heart. "You can't wish for death, Souta! You're too young! And don't talk like that! It makes me sad."

"You're right. I can't wish for something I already have."

His state of melancholy roused me to anger. Before I could stop myself, I delivered a swift slap across his face...for the second time. I wasn't even aware that he was standing in front of me; I only assumed that so my fear wouldn't trouble me as much.

I heard no cry of surprise. I was greeted only by disturbing silence. In the absence of his facial expression, it seemed that it had not moved him.

"_It's not polite to strike someone." _Souta said...in double voices.

I gasped. I backed away, heading for the exit. The interior was too dark, so I managed to slip on some unknown object and fall. I felt something sharp run up my leg, illiciting a searing pain as it traveled upward, stopping at my hip.

Souta ran his fingers through my hair, undoubtedly possessed by his inner demon; I knew he would not dare to touch me anymore at this dangerous stage in his life.

His warm tongue lapped at my cheek, sliding up to the edge of my left eye. I whimpered there in my rigid position, about to be overcome by tears again. It wasn't so much that I was afraid to move because I did not want to aggravate my wound, it was that his grip had paralyzed me; I feared if I made an attempt to escape, he would be inspired to inflict pain on me.

Or worse.

"_The taste of your tears makes me wonder what your blood will taste like. Is it sweet like this, too?"_ He whispered into my ear.

"Souta, please..." I cried, dragging myself to some unknown place in the room. Interpreting the tapping on the floor, I thought he was walking toward me, probably wearing a concealed grin on his face, forced on him by his possessor.

A spark of electricity burst in the room, the obvious source being my pendant. The light blinded me completely. I heard the chalkboard collapse and the sound of a body being forced into the wall.

I lay in my sprawled position in a stupefied blur; the power of the pendant was too much for me to handle.

After a few painfully silent moments, dull rays of light seeped into the room. I saw the shadow of his hand on the door while he peered outside.

"Rio?" He said, incredulous. "Where are you? God, if I hurt you.._I'm sorry!_"

A wave of relief crashed on me in one powerful blow. I struggled to stand while I seized the heel of his shoe. "I'm here!"

He turned around, opening the door all the way. As the light broke into the room, his figure became more defined. Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes.

"Rio!"

He seemed to have no memory of what had just taken place; he only seemed to know that he had dissociated. He knelt down and grasped me, helping me to my feet.

I cried out in pain. "Ow! My leg!"

Souta peered behind him. "I...cut you?" He dragged us into the dying light in the hallway.

"That...was you?" I panted.

"I just woke up right now! When I did, I felt like I just tasted..."

Our gazes met before he could finish his sentence. The inquisitive moment we shared startled him into silence for a time.

He squinted his eyes, lifting up his free hand. There was a small cut on his palm. "And I...woke up with a sharpened ruler in my hand."

We spent the rest of the day in the eerie confines of the abandoned floor, in order to evade the curiosity of the students.

During that time, he confided in me again. I listened to every word and etched them in my mind, vowing never to forget them. He would only be this way for a short time. His other self would soon come to retrieve him.

He told me that while he could make some sense of the dreams he conceived prior to Ritsuko and Hideki's slaying, his recent dreams did not make the least bit of sense. His mind ran in circles trying to interpret them. He was forced to come to the most horrid of conclusions.

His newest dream was one he had dreamt a day before his birthday. He had some deja vu concerning Ken and Sayuri's argument at the front door, but what happened after that was more noteworthy.

He simply saw fire. He couldn't make out what it was burning. His consciousness was being depleted by the absence of oxygen. The heat was so immense he couldn't breathe.

And then he woke up, remembering today is his birthday.

I inquired as to what he thought it might mean, but he didn't know. And he loathed to think about what it _could_ mean.

We were in for more unwelcome surprises when the student body was dismissed. We were walking out of the back to avoid the crowd, when all of a sudden I felt a mass of my hair being pulled. The force pulled me to the ground.

I immediately thought it was Sayuri here to pick us up. She had somehow got here before Ken. I imagined an old fashioned beating was awaiting me at home.

But when I turned around, Sayuri's furious countenance was not what I met.

A boy who was, without a doubt, Souta's age, was standing over me. His hair was a messy, black heap that met its split ends near his Adam's Apple. But while he was bestowed with the gift of beautiful, dark amethyst eyes, he was cursed with extremely thick eyebrows, which was probably in the norm for a caveman, and disgusting freckles all over his cheeks.

His smell was horrendous. I'd rather not go into detail concerning what he smelled like.

In short, he appeared as a masculine counterpart of Raggedy Anne, after he had died his hair brown, and neglected all forms of proper hygiene.

Upon seeing another boy join my sight, I assumed they were related. The other at his side shared similar features; the only differences between the two being one was blessed by the absence of excessive freckles and wore shorter hair, though not less unkempt as his probable sibling, and they had different eye colors; the amethyst contrasted the dull red his assumed brother bore.

They both looked like of a pair of uncultivated, homeless ruffians who seemed almost as adept at the art of cruelty as Sayuri was.

The longer haired one kicked me in my stomach and yelled, "Get up, you rich art whore!"

The other student commented, "This must be Souta's bitch." He laughed hoarsely, then added, "Hey—wait, doesn't she look like the bitch who fired Dad?"

'Bitch' must be a customary term they use to identify females. Their smell and countenance weren't the only things that were being neglected; their intelligence was suffering a great deal.

Before preparing to kick me again, he stopped and thought for a second, "Hey...yeah, she does! This ain't Souta's girlfriend, it's his _sister_!"

After the two insults had been uttered, Souta lept to my aid and helped me to my feet, attempting to flee from them.

I thought it detestable that he would run away from a fight, which, after all the suffering I had endured by Sayuri, was ready to inflict.

Having been possessed by a belligerent nature, I pushed him aside and clenched my fists, ready for war. I ran head on into the first boy and swung at him; he quickly dodged and punched my breasts, laughing like a mare as I staggered back, trying to fight tears.

At that moment, I shunned all emotion. Crying wasn't going to get me anywhere, and it certainly wasn't going to remove all of the teeth from his mouth and snap his spine in two.

I gritted my teeth and prepared myself for reentering in the brawl.

"Look, she's gonna kick your ass for punching her in the titties!" The shorter haired brother yelled.

"As if! I'll show you your place, Hikari slut!" The other one spat, preparing himself for another counter attack.

"Leave him alone! He's not worth it! We have to go!" Souta cried nervously, grabbing my arm.

I didn't take a second to consider what he said. My furious state of mind was beyond the reach of all reasoning. I wanted those boys on the ground, and that's what was going to happen.

I released myself from my brother's grip. I ran up to the first boy again and lifted my fist with the apparent intention of punching him in his face. He spread his legs so it would be easier to slide to a stop should my blow force him backward, and braced his hands to seize my fist.

Seeing that punching him was a futile move, I stopped at the last minute and swung my leg back, letting it go full force. I delivered my foot right into the unprotected region I had intended to hit.

"Aaaaah!!" He screamed, grasping his private part and collapsing onto the grass. The other gasped and turned to me, his red eyes blazing like fire.

My hands quivered with all the anger searing through my veins. I couldn't wait to take him down.

He snatched a small knife from his pants pocket and swiped at me. I dodged and fell on the grass as well, panicking once I found it difficult to drag myself away from him.

The impact of the fall had caused my flesh to rip open, exposing the wound. In my bout of foreign fury, I had forgotten about the lengthy, bleeding gash on my leg given to me by my brother.

"_RIO!"_

A sudden beam of bright light erupted from behind me. The boy wielding the knife screamed in terror and fell back next to his brother, trying to help him up. Once the longer maned boy noticed what was behind me, he let out a scream of his own and prepared himself to run.

Unfortunately for them, Krad grabbed them both before they could blink and and slammed their heads together. They were immediately rendered unconscious under his grasp.

Krad turned to look at me. His magnificence forced a cry from my throat.

He was the single most beautiful and awe-inspiring being I had ever laid eyes on. His hair was not the dull blond I had originally imagined; his locks were sleek and bright gold, being swayed by the gentle breeze. His eyes were not yellow, but an even brighter gold than his mane; his skin, a pale peach hue.

His garb was like a white blanket of silk wrapped around his tall, stunning figure. His appearance could have been compared to that of a seraphic warrior bent on the exaltation of the Grand Designer himself.

Seeing him in person completely destroyed my train of conscious thought. I was compelled to sit there on the grass and gaze at him forever, like the ensnaring spell he was.

He was more than a bogeyman and the perpetrator of my childhood nightmares; he was a real, otherworldly being...and he deserved my fear.

He smiled and his eyes widened. Upon sight of me, he dropped the lifeless boys to the ground.

"My, my...I've never seen one so beautiful when they are frightened. You are like a living Nihon-ningyou (1)."

I felt the ability to breathe or even to think straight being ripped from me. I was so overwhelmed by the fear of imminent death I could not move. I was positive he would seize me before I could flee. And so I stood there, a sitting target, waiting for my life to end.

He knelt down and slid his finger along the slit of the wound, stopping when his finger was almost fully covered in my blood. He lifted it to his face and licked up the underside of his finger, closing his eyes to savor the taste.

Tears slid down my cheeks before I realized I was crying.

With his bloodstained finger, he smirked and pointed back to the unconscious bullies behind him. "Go ahead.." he began softly, "Claim your pound of flesh. I'll kill the other one."

He let out a blood curdling chuckle; tremors crawled up my body and shook every fiber of me.

My pendant lit up again, but not with the blinding intensity of the basement incident. Suddenly, he grunted and grabbed his chest, looking like he was trying to fight off heartburn.

He clenched his teeth and reached for me; by the entrance of adrenaline in my system, I managed to break free of my subduing fear, jump back and run a short distance from him. I staggered on my wounded leg and fell on the grass again, averting my eyes to Krad.

But he was gone.

In his stead was Souta, breathing hard and holding his head.

I attempted to go to him. The shuffling of the grass startled him into awareness about his surroundings. He clenched his hair and screamed, "No! Get away from me!"

"Souta, it's me!"

He ceased his movement for a time; taking a few seconds to inhale and recognize my voice. "R...Rio..?"

"Yes, Souta, it's me. It's alright, I'm here.." I breathed, reaching out for him.

"Didn't I fucking tell you this was going to happen!" Rang a familiar voice in my ears.

Before I could react, I was torn from my position in the grass by Ken, who occupied himself with examining my wound. Sayuri ran up to Souta and slapped him in his face, commanding him to stand.

"Get up!" She rasped, as he struggled to compose himself. He staggered over to her; she arrested Souta and dragged him to the limousine.

"Don't be so rough with him! It's not his fault!" Ken shouted back.

Much to Souta's apparent dismay, the limousine was within plain sight; thus allowing throngs of teenagers to see him being forced across the street with a big red hand mark on his face.

I cringed in disgust and anger. Maybe 'bitch' was the appropriate term...when referring to her at least.

Ken ripped off a large portion of his sleeve and wrapped it around to stanch the blood flow.

He looked up at me, "That bastard got you pretty bad. Call me crazy, but I think it was fortunate that Krad had intervened. If he hadn't, the other one would have killed you. And judging by the look on his face, he wouldn't think twice about killing a girl."

"What are you talking about? Those boys didn't give me this gash. Souta did."

His eyes widened. "What?!"

"I'll tell you about it when we get home. And I don't think it's fortunate that Krad butted in. I could've took him!" I cried, crossing my arms in a defiant stance that wasn't fooling anyone.

"I don't think so." He chuckled, helping me to my feet. "But I must say, I was proud of you when you stood up for yourself. Sayuri and I were pretty surprised when you kicked that boy in the groin. Very impressive."

I blushed. "W-what? You _saw_ that?"

"Course I did. You didn't really think that we were going to let you go to school with Souta unattended, did you?"

"Well...yeah.."

Before we crossed the street, he said, "By the way, when we were watching the fight, Sayuri said that she taught you how to fight like that."

* * *

In the aftermath of the school episode, Kayako was commanded that she give up her room for Souta's occupancy. Where they placed him was all about distance; the East Wing was a fair distance from the main house, where all of our rooms were. So, regardless of Souta's feelings on the subject, it was a intelligent move.

However, you can imagine that years of an intimate relationship with my brother, him being my best friend, my partner in crime, and the person I loved the most, it was not something I took very well.

"Souta, doesn't it bother you that we won't be able to see each other anymore?"

"It doesn't matter how we feel. All that matters in the end is that you're alive." He said listlessly.

"I didn't ask you if it mattered! I asked you if it bothers you!"

"No."

I froze. "What?"

"No, it doesn't bother me. In the end, what is more important: the emotional impact of the separation, or the fact that I am very capable of killing you?"

"Souta..."

"I let go of everything for a reason. It was to ensure your safety. And If I have to be parted from you forever, then so be it."

Those were the last words he said to me that night. I was forced to lie awake in my lonely chasm of a bed, his words blaring in my ears. The separation was unfair. Souta was unfair. Everyone was unfair. This wasn't how my life was supposed to be.

Feeling choleric and low in spirits, I tried to envision what my life would be like without him by my side. Again.

The second try had given the initial result; my mind brought me nothing.

Dear God, it was unbearable. It was unthinkable. It was incomprehensible. It was unreal.

My misery forced an interim of anesthesia upon me. I was plunged into a engrossing nightmare that was hard to liberate myself from.

_The limousine scours through the city relentlessly. I'm caught within it. I can't seem to get out. If I knew where we were going, then I'd..._

_Wait. Why is it so dark? I don't get it. Where is...?_

_A sharp pain runs up my leg in the midst of the blackness._

"_God, if I hurt you, I'm sorry!"_

"_Souta?"_

"_This is the last time I'll ever say it to you."_

"_Souta?"_

"_Don't provoke him."_

_Tears. God, I'm crying. Where am I? Where am I? I don't know where I am!!_

_I feel a hand against my cheek. Is it his? It is his touch? _

_The touch leaves._

_No, wait, don't go! I need you here! Dammit, I need you here! Souta?_

"_In the end...we're still brother and sister."_

_Hating him! Hating him! _

_You can't hate me forever..._

I startled awake in the middle of the night, pulled into awareness by some unknown source. As my eyes roved lazily over the room, all I could make out was the blackness of my surroundings. The stars beyond the balcony interlaced with them, making the ceiling look like space.

Souta's words haunted me, threatening to burst from my throat, just for the sake of saying them.

I needed a while for my sight to adjust. As each individual color emerged to reveal itself in my eyes, I saw Souta's face aligned itself perfectly in front of me. Oh, the torture of dementia! I thought myself insane. I couldn't be seeing him.

Unconsciously, one hand placed itself on my neck. The hand, of its own accord, searched for my necklace, tickling my sensitive skin. I shivered, emitting a shaky breath.

My pendant was not there.

* * *

Trying to still my breathing is something that I have not done too many times, so I wasn't adept at it. I had held my breath before, however, when certain activities called for it: swimming underwater, hiding from Souta with Setsuko so we could jump out on him, hiding in the closet from Sayuri's wrath...just to give a few examples.

And now this.

An ominous limousine scours the streets, just like my dream. And just like my dream, I have no idea where it is going. The guard at my side does, apparently. He holds my hand as he escorts me across the darkened streets; the lights that tower above us being our only way to walk through the night that holds the city of Azumano in a coma-like state.

I trust him. His hand is warm and securely wrapped around my own. My guardian. He wouldn't let anything happen to me.

The limousine comes to a stop at the entrance to a park that was closed off by a two elongated brick walls on the left and right side; the entrance and posterior is closed off by gates.

The guard and I hide in the darkness. Souta steps out into the night, taking a deep breath and running his fingers through his hair. Is he about to meet someone dangerous? Is that why he appears as a nervous shadow edging its way into the threshold of the park?

"We can go in through the back." said the man.

"You have the key to the back?"

He chuckled. "No, of course not. You're just small enough to squeeze through the back gates."

My cheeks flushed; I wasn't sure he could see it or not, he gave no indicators that he did.

We ran past the limousine and across the brick wall on the side of the park. We turned down a corner and was met by the gates.

He situated himself by the wall, "I'll wait for you here, Miss Hikari. I suggest you hide behind a bush or a slide or something. But make sure it's a close range, so you can hear what he's saying."

I nodded appreciatively. "Thank you."

He smiled. "You're welcome."

Just as he had foretold, my body was small enough to ease my way through the space that separated each bar from the other one. Pleased with myself, I stealthily weaved my way through the park, hiding behind slides and ducking under swings.

I caught sight of a huge bush that was situated just behind the bench Souta was sitting in. I slithered like a snake up to the bush, never taking my eyes off of him, even for a few seconds. I wrapped my arms around my legs and brought them to my chest.

There I waited with my brother, unaware of who he was waiting for.

I peek through the bush so I can make out some of his jet black hair, or his lone figure sitting solemnly on the bench. My sight isn't good, considering what I'm hiding behind, but at least I can ascertain that he is there at all.

The only evidence that I have against him regarding my pendant is the hand I felt against my cheek as I slept, and the fact that it is 2:00 in the morning, and he's here...waiting for someone.

Being tantalized by a question I could not supply a definite answer to, my mind ran wild with outlandish assumptions and ridiculous notions.

Among my unreasonable theories were the possibilities that he could be giving my pendant to Phantom Thief Dark, or he could be waiting for someone to retrieve him so he can leave his life of riches, luxury, and inner pain forever.

Among my saner theories was the possibility that he could just want the sanctity of a quiet place and the blanket of innumerable stars under his head so he can sort his frenzied, agonizing thoughts.

I see what appears to be a young girl cross the entrance to the park. Through the thick tresses of this irritating plant, I can see her shoulder length, auburn hair. I could not make out much of her facial features, but by interpreting her movements, she noticed Souta sitting on the bench. She lifted her arms to wave at him. I assumed she was smiling, thinking something like, 'I can't believe he's here. He came'.

My eyes trail down her body. Her chest is underdeveloped and she has an absence of the feminine curves that would indicate that she is in her mid-teens or early twenties. She must be my age, I concluded. She is clothed in purple pajamas with white rabbit slippers on her feet, a further indicator that she is indeed very young.

Souta stands and reaches out for her, awaiting her touch. She gleefully runs up to him and they share a prolonged embrace.

I feel anger simmer inside me. How impertinent of him to go so far as to nourish a romance that I was completely oblivious to! How dare he turn his back to me, and love her as if no psychopathic being resided inside him, desiring to render her to a blood soaked corpse!

I silently inch myself closer to the bush, leaning my head against the bush for easier audio reception.

Souta and the unnamed girl sit down on the bench, holding hands.

Much to my relief, the girl spoke up first. "Oh, Souta, its been so long since we were this close. I've always wanted to hold your hand, but you would never let me. Every time I passed by you in the hallway, you would glare at me. I was so sad, thinking you didn't like me.."

"You know I didn't mean it." he said. Suddenly, a realization dawned on me. Those words were not smooth and emotionless...they were spoken wholeheartedly and sincerely, with a hint of modesty...a penchant of the old Souta.

"I thought you didn't like me at all. Why is it that you can hold my hand now?"

Souta reached to his chest and grasped the pendant, exactly as he would when we were little, and he was being tormented by precognitive death visions.

"I took it from Rio. It keeps Krad inside. When I get home, I have to put it on her again and just hope she doesn't wake up."

An extra gift from the gods, eh? How dare he confide in her! She's an outsider! How would he ever expect her to understand a subject as complicated as this?

"Speaking of Rio...how is she doing?"

He sighed. "God, she hates me. She just didn't understand. That day that she slapped me...I wanted to throw myself out of a window. We haven't replenished the bond we used to have since then. It got pretty bad at school. Damn him to hell, he destroyed everything..."

I struggled to hold a outcry in my throat.

"You know, its not fair that she hit you like that! If I were you, I'd give her a piece of my mind!"

He shook his head. "No."

"What do you mean? You mean you'd just stand there and take it if she did it again?"

"Of course I would. I would never, ever, harm Rio in any way whatsoever. No matter how abusive she is to me...if, at the end of the day, I receive her forgiveness, then she can hit me as much as she likes."

"That's still not right, Souta. You have a...condition. She needs to be more understanding. You're only trying to protect her."

"I know. But now that we're so detached now...I want her to. I want her to hit me. I want to lay on her curls when I sleep. I like it when her hair tickles my nose. I like it when she kisses my cheek after I wake up from a nightmare..." His voice broke, "God, I'd give anything..."

The girl's chocolate brown hair shielded her face as she peered at her shoes. "You know I get jealous when you do that. I wish you would love me like you love her."

He lifted his hand to his cheek and wiped off a tear with the underside of his finger. "That's impossible."

She lifted her head. "Why?"

"Because I love my sister more than anyone. I love my sister more than I fear my parents; that's why I allowed her to drag me to the East Wing, even though I knew we would get in trouble. I love my sister more than I fear the man inside me; so I left her behind."

The girl was silent for a moment. "I would love the chance to be Haruko Hikari someday."

Much to my dismay, I let out a gasp.

"You're upset, aren't you?"

Haruko froze. "I-I...no, no, I'm not."

"Of course you are. Why do you always try to hide things from me?"

"I was being stupid. Forgive me...I wanted you to love me more than your own sister. That's not something I can ask from you."

Souta did not reply. Instead, he slowly tilted himself toward her face, brushing against her cheek with his nose and stirring her strands as he breathed in her scent. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his.

Feeling guilt-ridden for eavesdropping on an encounter I clearly was not invited to, and the fact that I was watching his first kiss (as far as I know), I tried to pry my gaze away from that amazing sight, but found that I could not.

A light pink blush flamed his face. It was so heart achingly adorable, I couldn't contain the joy at seeing him finally feeling something, so...I let out a small gasp.

My eyes widened; I covered my mouth to prevent further utterance of noise. The star-crossed couple were still unaware of my presence yet; Souta rested his head on her shoulder and tightened his grip on her hand.

She closed her eyes and treasured the silent moment of intimacy, smiling weakly as a tear drew a path from her eyelashes.

I was afraid of disturbing the sentimental interlude they could not have otherwise during the day, but to my unnoticed gratitude, she suggested that she depart immediately, lest her parents find out about her absence.

They shared one final embrace before her departure. And so she left the park, jogging her way home in those silly, white bunny slippers.

Souta reached out for her, calling her name before he resigned himself to silent contemplation.

In this interval of pondering I attempted to escape noiselessly. I was halfway to the back gates when I tripped in the sand and fell with an, "Umph!"

Souta immediately whipped around to face me. Surprisingly, he did not wear a look of alarm. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and walked up to me with that casual strut of his, sliding his hands into his pockets.

Knowing I could not escape him, I dusted the sand off of my white night gown and ruffled my cerulean curls and said, "Okay, okay, you caught me. I'm not going to deny I followed you."

He breathed a sigh. "You should be asleep. It's very late. How much did you hear?"

"Everything," I mumbled, blushing. The guilt from eavesdropping was quickly subsided with happiness. I had to hear it indirectly, but at least I knew that his love for me had not been destroyed along with our once unbreakable bond.

He closed his eyes, trying to decide on a proper response.

"Look, I just want you to go home and get some sleep. You heard everything you wanted to hear."

"Why did you never tell me that you were dating Haruko? Did anyone know? Now that I think about it, the boys who tried to stab me thought I was your girlfriend."

"No one knew except the two of us." He replied, shading his eyes with his jagged, black bangs. "I was actually going to tell you about our relationship before, but you had to fly off the handle and slap me."

"I thought you were going to apologize."

"No. I was originally going to tell you about Haruko. But I changed my mind at the last minute."

"Why? Don't you trust me anymore?"

"I couldn't risk you telling Ken. I would get the beating of my life."

"How long have you been meeting like this?"

"This was our first time."

I sighed in relief. "You're not lying are you?"

"I have no reason to. You're my sister, no matter what you choose to believe."

"_We're not brother and sister_," I recalled saying to him.

I rebuked my comment. "Souta, you know I didn't mean that."

A faint smile came to life on his perfect face.

"I know."

* * *

Fortunately, suspicions were not mentioned nor implied as to our whereabouts last night. Ken and Sayuri were happily oblivious, jousting like the mad dogs they were at any given chance, like two infants squealing about a toy with what they shared a mutual desire.

Ken had the foresight to keep the knifes from her grasp, leaving her no choice but to rely on hand to hand combat.

Concerning the reason for their feud, I did not know. But what I speculated was that the subject of the brawl was of little significance, as was the case with all of their quarrels.

Ken came up to me, a bloody handkerchief in hand, and wiped his perspiring forehead.

"Damn that bitch to the infernal regions beneath! She knows how to fight! Its been _years_ since high school, but she still has the ass kicking capability to maul a--"

"Why were you fighting in the first place?" I asked, not interested in his self loathing for provoking a tyrant.

"You mean you really don't know? Didn't Souta--"

I issued him a blank expression.

"Never mind. Well, about a few days ago, I submitted Souta's work to the Azumano museum, and they said that the public have been aching for new Hikari work, especially that of a new prodigy. They were interested in selling it; half of the earnings going to the museum, and half to us.

"Sayuri objected, given Souta's condition; I said that Krad wouldn't have the balls to unleash his wrath on hundreds of innocents for no apparent reason. She didn't believe me of course. She tends to let her imagination run wild when it comes to Souta. She said.." he paused for a moment to dab at his bloodstained forehead, "That if I took him there she would kill me--"

"And she wasn't kidding, I see." I replied, grabbing the handkerchief and dabbing his forehead for him. He smiled in gratitude.

"Yeah. But there's more."

I gave a listless nod.

"I said I wanted to take you with him, and she snapped. I'm tellin' ya, she can't be reasoned with. It's not like the paintings are destined for a greater purpose in this house other than collecting dust, anyway."

"Souta doesn't like his work?"

"It's not that he doesn't care about it at all; but considering that it can be used for a good cause, he decided he didn't need the paintings."

"A good cause? Is he donating to charity?"

"No, silly! All the money he gets from his work is going straight to your dowry!"

I ceased my recent occupation to gape at him.

"Wh-what? Why do I need a dowry? Sayuri isn't marrying me off, is she??"

He stood up and took the handkerchief from me, stuffing it in his pocket for safe keeping.

"No. You need a dowry because you do not have financial support outside of this family. Should you run away, which is an utterly stupid decision in itself, you will die impoverished in the streets or survive on the charity of a sympathetic soul.

"With a dowry, you have your own fortune, thus cutting the umbilical cord that binds you to this dark hellhole. Herewith, you would be able to claim your own estate, servants, possessions, and other necessities of a rich art snob."

"Why would he do this?" I murmured to myself, furrowing my eyebrows and shaking my head.

"Because regardless of what you two have gone through these past months, you are still siblings. Being the older, mature, and independent one of the pair, he is endowed with the responsibility of ensuring your safety and happiness, should I, or my dear wife--" he shot a glare at Sayuri, who was glowering at him from the foyer of the kitchen--"Fail to do so."

"And besides—with that demon in him, one can't expect him to get married at all, or even be blessed with a long-term romantic companion. If, for some odd reason, the spirits smile upon him, and he _does_ get married, I assure you it won't be anytime soon. So, it seems best that he invest in your future, instead."

* * *

Why won't that expression leave me?

Ever since Setsuko's death, Sayuri was never keen on exposing me to the outside world again; if Ken possessed the cowardice and submission, he would gladly step back and allow that to happen. I would die an old woman in that house; haggard, withered, and with liver spots all over my face, like Ritsuko. Somehow, I longed to see them again.

But I also longed to banish that face from my mind.

As Ken, Souta and I waited for the limousine, Sayuri was far behind us—standing at the front gates with her arms crossed, peering at us with those fiery blue eyes. Like she knew something that we did not.

The moment we stepped out on to the red carpet—yes, they placed a red carpet on the entrance just for our arrival—we were bombarded with questions, camera flashes, and loud shouting. As a last minute attempt to avoid the paparazzi, Ken got back in the limousine and gave us farewell, ordering the man to "scoot off immediately".

The foyer of the art gallery was a sight for sore eyes; the main lobby composed of a white marble floor, an angular set of suede couches encircling a small table with a vase of roses on it. A giant chandelier lit up the room, making the waterfall on the end of the interior glisten in all its beauty.

The relentless camera flashes behind Souta and I made me feel like a movie star. It was a nice transition of how the world viewed me. Most of my life, people hardly had anything nice to say to me. Now I was a queen to them.

Souta paid them no mind. He bowed to the museum director, who smiled at his courteous gesture. He led him down an elongated corridor, aligned with an array of countless paintings on the wall.

I was besotted with the magnificence of it all; I had my eyes glued to the walls, so I wasn't paying attention when the museum director, who had already announced himself as Mr. Tanaka, was calling me by a name I was rarely addressed by.

"Miss Hikari? Miss Hikari?"

"Rio." Souta tapped my shoulder, seeming a bit annoyed with my lack of attention.

I was roused back into sudden cognition with his touch. It was like electricity...

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, Mister...um.."

"Tanaka." He smiled and volunteered to take my hand. I swallowed lightly and allowed him my hand. He gently brought me into the auction room.

You could hardly tell it was not used for the presentation of Operas, for it shared the likeness of a huge theater. Hundreds of people were already situated in their seats, waiting to take Souta's work home.

Souta's work was lined at the base of the stage where a podium stood above it.

Mr. Tanaka led us down to the first row, where the first two seats bore reservation cards with our names on them. Souta was to sit on the very first seat; I was to be seated next to him. We occupied two seats of out ten. The rest were vacant, as Mr. Tanaka had informed us that this row was reserved for the Hikari family only.

We exchanged nods before he departed to the stage, adjusting his tie before approaching the podium. Once he stood before it, he took the microphone into his hand and cleared his throat, tapping on the head of it before commencing his speech.

"Welcome to the long-awaited Azumano Art Auction, hosted by none other than..me."

A healthy dose of people rewarded his dry humor with a few chuckles.

"As you all know, the Hikaris are among the greatest artists in the history of Japan, and also are the wealthiest in all of Asia. And finally, after 12 years of silence, the Hikari dynasty has gifted us with more of their awe-inspiring work!"

A loud applause exploded into the room, startling me. I chuckled nervously and bit my lip.

So many strangers...

So very many...

I felt his fingers ghost over my shoulder. "You should calm down," he murmured. "Get used to this room. You'll find yourself in this room more and more prevalently as time passes."

"Thanks for...you know, the dowry thing."

Without looking at me, he nodded.

Mr. Tanaka then began bidding. He knelt down and picked up the first painting, which was one I did not recognize. It was a painting of fire.

"This piece is entitled "Hades". As you can see, Mr. Hikari's collection is quite a brooding one; we have here an assortment of the most eloquently depicted phantasmagoria an aspiring young artist can create. We'll start the bidding at 10,000 dollars (2)."

A man raised his card from a few rows behind us. A few men joined him soon after.

"Fifteen thousand. Going once, going twice—25,000, 25,000 going once—shit!!" Mr. Tanaka spat, the profanity stunning those around him. This actually forced a reaction from Souta's face. His eyes widened somewhat.

Mr. Tanaka fell back against the base of the stage, pointing to something behind the rows.

"_They've got guns!" _A woman shrieked from the crowd.

Souta and I turned around simultaneously. What was presented to us were a few dozen men in tuxedos at the entrance of the auction room with guns in their hands. Aside from their weapons and murderous intentions, they appeared as very well off men who were only here to buy Souta's work. Apparently, they had other things on their agenda.

"SIT DOWN! ALL YOU RICH BASTARDS! DOWN NOW!" The man in the middle of the group shouted, baring his gun like a monster's fangs to the crowd.

Various people did as they were told. Others, unfortunately, disobeyed, attempting to flee by flinging themselves from row to row, intent on escaping through the right and left side exits.

A lucky few managed to escape unharmed—others, much to everyone's horror and disbelief, were killed. Blood splattered from their collapsing bodies, resulting in hellish screams and outcries.

In the midst of the chaos, one of the men, who I assumed was their leader, strutted down the walkway, pointing his gun on any poor soul who managed to capture his attention. They were immediately silenced.

When he reached Mr. Tanaka, he tore the painting from his hand and flung it at Souta. The canvas hit his feet and broke at one corner from the impact. Souta didn't even flinch.

The man shifted his attention from Souta to Mr. Tanaka, who was so scared the microphone simply slipped from his fingers and slid to a stop on his lap.

The man picked up the microphone. He slipped out a sheet of paper from his pants pocket and read it for all to hear, with obvious intentions on disgracing Mr. Tanaka in front of a frantic audience:

"Mr. Tanaka, you have not paid you dues prior to the advent of the aforementioned date, so this humble person feels it is time to collect what rightfully belongs to the mighty Yakuza clan. This humble person wishes you good fortune in the afterlife, and is very sorry for this matter to be exposed to all you hold near and dear. My regards to your late wife and her lover."

More gasps and outcries commenced; several women fainted.

What happened next completely suspended my animation and conscious thought. The man raised the gun to Mr. Tanaka's forehead and pulled the trigger.

The screams were louder than before, causing a multitude of people to attempt escape. As was the initial result, several managed to lose their lives in a heartbeat; others escaped either unharmed or with bullet wounds to their shoulders and arms.

One woman was even shot in in the side of her stomach and still crawled out the exit way. I assumed she died soon after, for she was bleeding profusely.

I clung to Souta. He stood up and grabbed me, attempting to fling me to the nearest entrance way, which was to our left. I fell on the floor and got back up again in an instant, thinking of nothing but running. I turned around for the briefest moment and saw Souta dodge a bullet from the man who had murdered Mr. Tanaka, and then leap into a crowd of fleeing people.

Gunshots rang in my ears. I couldn't breathe.

I forgot everything previous to this moment. I did not think about dying or the fact that Souta could be; I only ran. And ran. And ran.

All I can hear is the shrieks of names and regret. All I can see is blood. Everywhere. I have to remember to breathe.

I see a woman weeping on the floor, a red mess, holding her dead child in her arms. His mouth is marred with blood. His eyes are blank and lifeless. Another murdered child sleeps.

I see Setsuko in them.

Closing my eyes. Reopening them. I see another similar sight. A man dying next to his wife. Swimming in her thick sea.

Turning a corner. More dead. Blood everywhere. A few men in tuxedos. No, I can't go down that hall. Go.

Another hall. Same thing. Dammit, they're everywhere. I dodge a bullet. My curls and tears encase my face in a blurry net. I can't see. I feel myself sliding across the marble floor. I hear gunshots.

I see fleeting gold strands pass by a case with some distorted vile in it. The glass breaks. A man screams.

Blood spurts from behind me. I get up and run. God...

Where am I? Where? I don't know where I am. _I don't know where I am!!_

I crawl to the corner of a corridor. I sit there and weep. I wish someone would shoot me..no! I can't wish for that! I don't know where...I don't know...

My water rimmed eyes widened. "_Souta?"_

Krad collapses on the ground, clutching the side of his stomach. A sound startles him. He doesn't seem to care that he is hurt.

Sirens.

* * *

1: Nihon: Japanese for "Japan". In some instances, "Ningyo" can be synonymous to "mermaid", but in this case, it is used for it's usual meaning, "doll".

2: I decided to use American currency instead of Japanese. I am a ditz when it comes to math.

I had to end the chapter, whether I liked it or not. Which I didn't, because this is not how I originally concieved that this was going to go. But I had to...this was getting _WAY_ too long.


	11. Atrophy

_Chapter Eleven: Atrophy_

Every living thing as far as the eye can see were either already dead or suffering through their last agonizing moments alive. Blood ran freely along the length of the marble floor, engorging everyone who fell to the ground.

Men in tuxedos stormed about like merciless soldiers, issuing death to any poor soul who managed to capture their attention. The acrid smell of blood and sweat filled the atmosphere, intense enough to render someone unconscious. Wives held their husbands, mothers held their daughters, sons held their parents.

The terrifying miasma of mass homicide startled my senses, which in turn, caused the entrance of adrenaline into my system again.

I was somehow overcome by a new found bravery that managed to put aside my fear of being shot to help my injured brother. I flung to his aid, trapping him in my embrace and uttering the command to stand.

I was not afraid of Krad now; he could not harm me as his animation had been suspended from the pain.

"D-dammit..." he breathed, clutching my shoulders, "S-so stupid...that boy is..."

"What happened?"

"I k-killed a few of those blackguards, but alas, I...failed to protect my tamer...upon seeing you were going to be shot...his will to save you overpowered me.."

"Comon, Krad, we have to go!" I grunted, trying to hoist him up into his feet.

"Have you holes for eyes? Cannot you not see that I am injured? Leave me be, senseless girl child!" Krad let out a guttural growl, averting his eyes to his wound. "That stupid boy. Now I will have to go back into the abyss.."

"Be quiet! Stand!" I cried. He nudged me away as a final form of protest, but after a few seconds he submitted to me. Involuntarily, he collapsed on my shoulder. The last words he uttered were whispered in my ear:

"He will not live."

Krad melted back into Souta's form. Souta slipped from my shoulder, grunting when he hit the ground.

I screamed out in the midst of disorder and death. I couldn't hear myself think. I couldn't hear my own voice or the beating of my heart. All my mind knew were images and the immediate interpretation of them. I had no time or will to contemplate anything.

Souta spluttered blood, squeezing his fists tight as he started coughing.

"Souta! Souta! We have to get out of here!"

I propped him on my bosom. He grasped his wound, forcing himself to stand, therefore aiding us in our escape. With the combined power of our legs, we sprinted into a random corridor, dodging an occasional bullet and hoping to get help as soon as possible.

A man shouted. For whatever reason, that shout was distinct among the others; I knew, doubtlessly, that I was being addressed. For a brief moment, I turned around while still running, having made it clear that Souta would keep watch for any dead bodies or other objects that we could trip over.

One of the tuxedo men had a gun pointed almost precisely at my head. Before I could veer to the side and escape my death, an elderly man sprung into the bullet range and sacrificed his life. Whether or not he did it intentionally, I will never know. The only thing that conflicted that conclusion was that an elderly woman was waiting for him on the other end of the room. She had her arms outstretched, calling him.

I didn't look long enough to see her die.

The room we entered was vacant and lifeless, granted there were a few blood ridden corpses on the floor, but they were not considered as occupants in my mind. At the end of the room, there was a door with a red exit sign above it. Souta and I let out a gasp simultaneously and darted to the door. I felt like I was flying. Beyond that door awaited our salvation.

I grasped the railing and slowly made the way to the staircase. I glimpsed behind me. A dark trail of bloody footprints trailed our path. I cried out and squinted my eyes closed, trying to banish the sight from my mind.

"_He will not live."_

Souta gasped. "R-Rio..!"

I opened my eyes.

"Oh god, Souta!" Ken cried.

He stood at the end of the staircase with Sayuri and a guard.

Sayuri ran up the steps and tore Souta from my arms, "Are you hurt?" She yelled.

"No," I said breathlessly.

"Then get in the car!" Ken screamed in the midst of a chorus of gunshots.

We rushed out of the building just as fast paced footsteps were advancing to the exit. I assumed several gang members had seen us escaping and were in pursuit of us, but we did not stay long enough to confirm it.

Another possibility could have been that survivors were heading to the door, but proved to be as unlucky as the majority of the innocent men and women caught in between all the turbulence.

The limousine was parked in the posterior of the museum, far from the entrance. But sirens and a multitude of chaotic noises intertwined with the heart pounding ring of gunshots and blood curdling screams that could be heard within close range of us.

Police cars flew into the streets. Several people were arrested, for whatever reason. Frantic, blood splattered survivors unleashed mayhem on the streets, startling civilians, worsening traffic, and crying out for God and assistance.

A great big cloud of smoke grew in the midst of the chaos, being fed by a mass of grey haze emanating from the windows of the museum. The smell of gasoline stung my nose before we were ushered into the car; in a few moments, a tempest of flames flew up the walls, eating away at the bricks, melting artwork and marring sculptures from within the building. All the while the searchlights waved in the sky to and fro.

And still I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to banish imagery that would never leave.

The smell of his blood filled the air; a relentless scent that would remain with me for the rest of my life.

The dark limousine drove around Azumano, turning corners, swerving to the left, swerving to the right; but either way, we were both drawing into an inevitable path with profound consequences.

Though the mansion was only a few minutes from the museum, that day the time seemed to stretch out farther; longer to me, perhaps, but still the same to everyone else. The longest ride. And as my brother lay at my shoulder wearing away, I knew tomorrow I would be reliving this.

Our dismayed parents swiped us both out of the car, running into the forest that bordered the Hikari mansion without a moment's hesitation, with us firmly in their grasp.

The trees were like fleeting, green giants as we were rushed to the house, with guards sprinting close behind us.

Upon our advent, guards gasped; maids cried out in shock and horror.

Ken placed Souta on the couch, the one he usually sat in when he read the newspaper, gently positioning him in such a way as give him freedom of movement. Sayuri stood rigid by the side of the couch for a while, looking as if her mind were running in circles. She wore the same expression she had when she saw Setsuko lying in the street, complaining that everything hurt.

Souta's cognition was fragile, shifting from sudden awareness to the situation at hand, to a vague understanding that, depending on what he was thinking about at the time, collapsed into brief intervals of delirium.

He claimed that everything he had dreamt was being realized right before his eyes.

"God, the lights..." he would cry, "They keep coming...I still see them..."

That was later to be revealed by Souta as the museum searchlights.

Among his other delirious proclamations were that the house was going to burn down somehow; that soon, 'everything would sink into hell'.

But we were not sinking into hell. We were already there.

Ken lifted up Souta's white shirt and examined the wound. An orifice about the size of a grape spewed small amounts of blood and stained the couch he was placed on. When Souta's leg twitched from the pain, a sudden torrent gushed out of the wound, some of it sprinkling on Ken's cheeks. Ken's eyes widened and his lower lip quivered at the sight. Without another moment of hesitation, he tore one of the lapels of his suit off and wrapped it tightly around Souta's abdomen. He grunted and let out a whimper.

A couple of maids burst into tears, weeping loudly. Several fled the room simply because they could not bear it. A few guards kindly offered other servants an embrace. Everyone seemed to know something deep in their hearts that I, at the time, was not willing to accept.

Sayuri rushed into the kitchen and poured a glass of water; as to who it was intended for, I did not know. If it was for Souta, I imagined the cause would be redundant. He had not the strength for anything aside of denouncing the home and all who lived in it with his ominous prophecies.

She dropped three ice cubes and opened one of the drawers for something. Finding what she was looking for, she popped it into the cup. The small clank of something against the glass startled me for some unknown reason. I turned my attention to Souta again, suddenly disinterested in anything that was not my brother.

Next thing I knew, she was at his side along with Ken, softly ordering him not to "fidget about". Ken agreed, offering him the frightening notion that he should cease his movements, lest he start bleeding uncontrollably. He immediately became still. Souta's reaction to Ken's words left me the impression that he was ignorant of the fact that he was _still_ bleeding, and the flow was ceaseless the moment it was inflicted on him.

He heeded their words in an instant. It was only his gaze that would travel from place to place.

Souta's unfocused, hazy eyes bore that dreaded grey. He did not spare me them. He peered at my quivering frame every now and again, reminding me every time that my fear was greatly misplaced. I would scold him for lying, then he would smile at me wordlessly. That smile always haunted me the moment it left; I hated and loved it, anxiously waiting for it to come back.

As he lay on the couch in a lethargic blur, he murmured to himself the most insidious nonsense. Sentences like, "No, I can't be...I can't be...", or "No, that's not true, be quiet".

I could only assume that Krad's mouth must have tortured him, even as he lay dying...

Sayuri studied him for a long while, imbibing his pity inducing state; then, suddenly, she came to a decision.

"Rio." She said sharply.

I sprang to the call. "Yes?!"

"I called an ambulance prior to the evacuation of the wounded...I told them I would bring him here. They should be coming...but before then, I want you to drink some water.." She lifted up the glass she held in her hand. Her eyes never left Souta.

I was too frantic at the time to inquire why he was brought to the house and not ushered into the ambulance. With my ignorance and my young age, I just assumed that they knew how to handle these situations; in truth, they were just as confused and helpless as I was. They just knew how to hide it better.

"I'm not--"

Before I could utter further protest, she raised her other hand to silence me. "You're dehydrated. You need something to drink, or else you'll faint. I can tell by your color. You're covered in the blood of innocent people, your hair is a mess, and you have a crazed look in your eye. Trust me, you need it."

My fingers twitched involuntarily for a second. I was in no mood or state of mind for further disobedience. I was too preoccupied with my brother's dwindling life.

I snatched it from her hands and drank hungrily, much to my surprise, and carelessly let the half-full glass slip from my fingers, shattering into thousands of tiny fragments.

She issued Ken a brief nod, to which he quickly swiped my poor brother's unresponsive body and practically glided up the stairs, Sayuri hot on his trail.

I thought it odd that they would be bringing him up to my room when he is in such a dire position; the ground floor is obviously closer to the entrance, thus allowing the paramedics faster access to his wounds.

What on earth were they doing?

My frenzied mind would not allow me to contemplate their actions or my own. I was stuck in a world where every second counted. I was stuck in a world where nothing else existed except what was happening right this moment. And right now my world was ending.

Ken laid Souta on the bed and dabbed his perspiring forehead with the handkerchief with which he used to stanch his own bloody forehead hours before the museum massacre. Souta cleared his throat, issuing that same smile to him. Ken whispered something to Souta in his ear, which sounded like "I love you," but it was not to be validated.

Ken glimpsed at Sayuri, then averted his attention to me.

"Stay with Souta while we wait for the ambulance downstairs."

Me, not being endowed with the intelligence of how situations like these were supposed to be carried out, stupidly crawled onto the bed and joined Souta by his side, my faith completely resting in the hands of these fast approaching saviors and the mercy of a God I never believed in until this moment.

Ken and Sayuri dismissed themselves from the room in a heartbeat.

"My Rio.." Souta whispered, while one of those weak, heartbreaking smiles came to life on his pale face yet again. I felt the most painful and incomprehensible feeling; one that I did not and will never have the ability to put into words.

He reached out to me and pulled a small curl out from behind my ear and slid his fingers down its length, letting it spring back up when he released it. All throughout his life he found an odd comfort in my hair, which I could never bring myself to fathom. But if it consoled his tortured mind, who was I to deprive him of it?

"Souta...I can't believe this is happening..." I cried, crushing his hand in my fists.

"Your pendant is broken, Rio," he pointed out, averting his eyes to my bloodstained gown. Sure enough, when I summed up the will to leave his grey eyes, I saw that one wing was chipped off.

"H-how...did that happen? I must have fell on it.." I said, though at the time, I could truly care less.

"No. A bullet grazed it. It hit me..." he took his other hand off of his stomach to present his bandaged, but still bleeding wound, "Instead.."

My eyes widened. "_Souta_! You..took the bullet for me??"

"Of course I did," He began, a tear sliding from his eye. "I would never let anything happen to you.."

"Oh, Souta!" I cried out in shock and dismay. "You didn't! You didn't! _You didn't!!_"

My body shook with uncontrollable grief; I weeped loudly while I held his trembling hand.

"Please don't cry...p-please don't.." he stuttered, his voice breaking, "I didn't do it to make you sad..."

"You didn't...you didn't..." I whispered, almost inaudibly, clenching my teeth in utter despair. "_No_.."

"I'm sorry."

"Why did you...you're so _stupid_! Why??"

"I'm..s-sorry.."

What I felt cannot be written in words. Dear God, it was unbearable. It was unthinkable. It was unreal.

"Help is coming. Help is coming. I promise. It's coming." I reiterated. Powerless sentences that were uttered out of necessity. Said simply because they needed to be.

Those foolish hopes were the only thing standing between me and insanity.

He gave me that same smile. The one he did when I would scold him for lying. He knew something deep in his heart that I could not bring myself to accept.

This was the end.

"I don't want help. I just want you to stay here with me."

"You want to die!" I screamed, incredulous. "You want to leave me! You want to leave me!"

"No...I want nothing more...than to be...with you...in my arms..." he breathed, laying his head in my bloodstained bosom, "My love...my life.."

"You want to leave me!"

"My Rio.."

"_Stop it!_ Stop it!"

"Please don't yell at me." He said in a whisper. "This isn't how I want to go."

I felt so helpless. I was trapped in a living nightmare that I couldn't free myself from. All the while, I tried to convince myself that it wasn't happening. Knowing that his demise was only a short time away, denying that his demise was a short time away...

It all surmounted to something greater than pain.

I thought of what we were.

Brother and sister.

"_You're always getting us into trouble!"_

Then...

"_I love you, Rio."_

_The next night, I kept my back close to him to monitor his breathing. It was almost unpredictable to tell when he would start panicking, because the light would come afterward. I was baffled. I did everything I could to console him: keep the light on, lull him to sleep, sing to him, hug him, kiss his cheeks and tell him funny stories. But the end result was him always waking up a frenzied mess, crying that he was going to die._

Allies torn apart from the veins of our condemned bloodline.

"_As if I need a brother who acts like a stranger, avoids me all the time, and never talks to me as the cherry on top of my fucking fantastic life!"_

"_I was...I was only trying to...God, you're just like Sayuri!"_

But then the truth really revealed itself. I knew what we were. And I knew what we were destined to be.

We were both just unfortunate pawns on the vicious chessboard of a heartless being.

"_He said 'You see? They don't care about you...they want you dead...but soon none of that will matter'..."_

_He bore into my gaze, his eyes looking like circular depths of grey. "He said to me..'One day...you won't feel pain any more'..."_

* * *

More than my life, I dreaded the dawn.

I truly, deeply dreaded it.

I simply watched him crumble to pieces. It was only within my power to dream that this was not happening. Only within my power to dream that his life was not coming to an end.

And so I dreamed.

"_If I sing you a lullaby, will you calm down?"_

_He gripped my pendant with quivering hands. His fingers...they were so small then..._

"_M-maybe...please sing to me.."_

_I grasped his hands and brought them to the curly mess he so loved. He smiled weakly._

_I cleared my throat and sang softly: "Come to me...we never be apart...the soul you seek is me...no more pain, no memories remain...now you can play with me..."_

"_So love me now...you are the one...I give you all the stars I see...the rain is gone...no pain is here...my heart...I beg you all your love..."_

_Souta and I then began to sing in unison at the second verse:_

"_Come to me...we never be apart...the sound you seek is me...no more pain...no memories remain...now you can play all the games with me..."_

Author's POV

Souta grabbed onto Rio's unmoving hand tight, savoring the feel of it. He wished she were awake. But then he didn't. He couldn't put her through this. He would never forgive himself.

The feeling in his heart told him it was time to go, though he couldn't bring himself to.

Memories blurred his mind. From when she was a young child. Those frizzy curls he fell so deeply in love with. Those reprimanding eyes that always told him not to cry. That sweet embrace. The liberation from his nightmare...this life...was her touch. Seeing her eyes so marred by tears broke his heart in more ways than one.

"Rio..."

There was not much breath left.

"I...love..."

The first rays of vermilion lit the sky, startling him from the need to cry. He remembered he would often wake at this time to stare at Rio as she slept. He would later blame his relentless gaze on low blood pressure, which in truth, he never had. He just stood in an emotionless haze for half an hour every morning because he knew that new hours of suffering had dawned on him. But this was his last dawn.

"You..."

In the light of the waking sun, his grey eyes had dilated. There, so firmly entwined in his sibling's hand, his blood ran cold.

* * *

_Rio, age 14_

_2 years later _

* * *

A week after to all the commotion, Sayuri finally informed me that it was indeed the Yakuza who were responsible for the museum massacre. Mr. Tanaka had dealt with them to rid himself of his adulterous wife, who he caught in bed with another man a month before the mass slayings occurred.

It seemed he was so caught up in his fury and desire for revenge that he did not think things through. He found out that he did not have enough money to pay back the Yakuza, and so they took matters into their own hands and killed him, immediately claiming a multitude of lives and priceless artwork in the process. When police got to the scene, some of the artwork, including my brother's, had been stolen.

One of the men had started a fire in a corridor, eventually setting the entire building into a fiery frenzy. Thousands of paintings and sculptures were destroyed; doubtlessly, some of Souta's work was among them. Injured men and women who were rendered immobile on account of their wounds were consumed by the ensuing blaze.

There were some who managed to escape the chaos and ventured outside aimlessly searching for help. Unfortunately, a multitude of them were killed by speeding cars and trampled over by other frantic survivors.

"It was simply mayhem," she said, with a blank expression. "No one..._no one_...was left untouched."

It was true.

The world took the death of another Hikari as a "shock".

News reporters mentioned that it was odd that the elder Hikaris had been suddenly murdered by the very people whom they trusted with guarding their most prized possessions. Then, two years later, the youngest Hikari died in a car accident. And now, the eldest sibling was fatally shot in the lower abdomen, resulting in him dying of excessive blood loss.

Rumors began to circulate that the Hikaris were being "offed" one by one by some unknown means. Some blamed it on the work of a Shinigami, a Japanese god of death. Others presumed that the Hikari dynasty was just a strangely unfortunate family with a powerful gift. The public dubbed us as "cursed" and "unfortunate beings".

Among the other unvalidated gossip regarding our family was that Souta was suffering from schizophrenia or some other mental disorder. These conclusions were made on the testimonies of the students who "knew" him, the general public, and former maids, butlers, and guards who had been fired by Sayuri.

In the midst of the uproar of hearsay, people began to assume that Souta's undiagnosed illness was brought on by years of abuse. The original claim of child abuse was publicized by Mrs. Misaki, our former math teacher at elementary school.

The remaining rumors were of a comical nature to me. They included that Sayuri had killed me and was hiding my body underneath the house (I had not been seen in public since the massacre), Ken had witnessed and or took part in our abuse (which was actually true), and that Sayuri was a witch that had the power to mentally control the servants and force them into silence.

In truth, she had increased their income to keep them quiet. Since she was suffering, she wanted to tantalize the world with obscure and inconclusive details surrounding our lives. It worked.

I could go on endlessly about what the public accused us of hiding, but I'd rather take the time to address a poor, forgotten soul who was also affected personally by Souta's passing: Haruko Harada, his former girlfriend.

According to news reports, Haruko had a mental breakdown in class upon hearing the news of his death and senselessly attacked another student who supposedly said something vulgar about him. She was dragged out of the school by police.

The next day, she dropped out and disappeared into her home. She hasn't been seen since. Her friends speculated she had either run away or committed suicide. They were free to think what they wanted; Rika Harada, her sister, took on a vow of silence and refused to talk to anyone regarding her depressed sibling.

This was all we heard before Sayuri flung the radio into the wall, smashing it into thousands of pieces. She claimed any further information about the current situation only serves the purpose of poison in our veins.

Before speaking of my own suffering, which I could ponder boundlessly, I will start with the impact Souta's death had on Sayuri. Simply because I think, as a mother, she _believed_ in him more than I did.

After the coroner removed his body from the house, she entered another one of her psychotic fits and tried to murder Ken with the sharpened edge of a table leg. She had been sharpening it into a fine point while Ken drove us to the museum. Apparently, her plan was: if Souta came back alive and well, she would spare her husband's life. If Souta was brought back dead or dying, Ken would pay for the transgression with his life as well.

Why the sharpened edge of a table leg? Why not a knife? Well, Ken had hidden the kitchen knives, so she no longer had access to them.

Much to my astonishment, he had already conceived a counter attack. He instantly fled from her and ran up the steps, grabbing the axe of the knight that stood outside my door. After Sayuri followed him up the stairs, he swiped at her weapon, splitting it in two. He successfully instilled the notion in her head that her many attempts to murder him made him want to kill her just to even the score.

He acted as if he had lost his sanity, screaming threats to kill her among his mad gibberish. After trying unsuccessfully to find another weapon, she put her hands up and tried to reason with him. He said he would kill her if she did not go downstairs and sit down on a chair. The request was indeed odd, but Sayuri and I were under the misconception that he was serious about murdering her.

When she did as she was told, he dropped the axe and pulled out some rope from under the couch and restrained her.

"I knew you would do something like this. I just knew you would snap. You can't blame this on me, Sayuri. You know damn well this isn't my fault." He said, wiping off his bottom lip of blood.

"You fucking bastard...you fucking bastard...I knew...I _knew_! Why didn't you listen to me??" She would scream over and over. She was to scream obscenities like this for the remainder of the night, so Ken had her ropes tightened every hour until her senses came to retrieve her.

I could not sleep that night, even if I wanted to. Not because of her constant screaming; that, I could drone out. It was because my brother's face...his eyes...layed behind mine. If I closed my eyes, they would be there waiting for me.

To my gratitude, Ken sat on the couch, sipping on his cigar all night. He stayed awake with me as I cradled myself back and forth nervously on the floor, trying to stop impending thoughts of Souta.

A day later, she became withdrawn, standing at the window of the study room and staring outside. Days after, she only did the same thing. It seemed she did not require subsistence any longer; she had ample strength to just stand there already on account of her previous experience. If you recall, she would stand above Setsuko's grave for hours on end, looking like an erect corpse.

Every time I saw her, I thought she was waiting for something.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into a month. A month of just standing at the window and staring. It became her endless hobby.

As always, my young and immature mind assumed that Ken was an omniscient being who knew everything there was to know about the mystery that was his wife, so I asked him why she did that.

"She looks like she's waiting," I mumbled, staring from afar.

Ken replied, "She always had a strange way of coping with grief. Sometimes she would go into a fit, sometimes she would disappear, sometimes she would never say a word...like she's doing now. This time...I think she's waiting, too."

"For what?" I looked up at him, perturbed at the haunting grey. It would only take a weak smile to drive me over the edge.

"She's waiting to waste away...to deteriorate into nothing. Like everything around us."

As for Ken, his coping was slightly different from Sayuri's. It seemed to bear an very subtle overtone of hope. He became silent for a time, standing over Souta's fresh grave. But he didn't look down at it. He gazed at the sky.

Whilst watching him do this, I finally realized the difference between him and Sayuri. She was despondent; she never harbored any faith in anything. This life was only pain to her.

_He_ dreamed of a new tomorrow, in a way. The way he was looking up at sky told me so.

"Where ever he is, I hope he's doing better than us. There's only atrophy here." He said, his hands so still and buried in his pockets, just as Souta once had them.

Thus, I coined him as slightly religious out of necessity.

Our mutual suffering was controlled by a crucial element: something that we needed to do to console ourselves. The things we did were similar, in a way, to how the obsessive compulsive carry out their senseless rituals because they believe it must be done.

Sayuri counteracted pain with violent fits and silence. Ken counteracted pain with faint hope and contemplation. I was soon to find out what I needed to do to as well.

The years subsequent to Souta's death had left me tired and weak. I cannot fathom how many nights I had eaten on the empty side of the dinner table, slept in a lonely bed, and woke up to a meaningless dawn.

Every morning, I found myself standing by the balcony, haunted by his face. Haunted by the face of a marred child who was torn away from everything he knew...because of me. Because I neglected him. Because I shunned him. My brother. My life. My Souta.

I suffered from emotions that brought on a pain I never knew existed. Sometimes I wondered if there were ever a terror greater than this, and if a human being had ever suffered it.

Sayuri simply called it 'loss'.

I was offended at first; 'loss' was a short word for such a terrible, consuming thing, a thing that ate away at every moment I breathed. I tried to believe that such a small word generalized the terror I felt. But I could not.

The thing I felt could not even be given a name. It was just a nameless terror.

And just as what I felt could not be diagnosed, nor could it be cured. As time wore on and ebbed away at me, it only worsened.

I still saw him. And heard him.

He never really acknowledged me. He would just walk about the room, pick up something that I remember picking up, and study it. If I ever heard his name, he appeared. If I ever thought of a letter in his name, he appeared. If I saw something that previously belonged to him, he would appear.

He was there out of necessity. He was there because I was not meant for a world where he did not exist.

Wallowing in my grief, I was reminded of what Sayuri told us as the pieces of the radio collided with the ground. She took it upon herself to inform me of why our family was subject to such misfortune:

"This is the punishment for attempting to play God. Four hundred years ago, a man of this family dared to create a "living masterpiece" using the Dark Arts. Four hundred years later, our entire bloodline is still forsaken.

"His insidious desires have plunged himself and generations of Hikari's proceeding him into the very depths of hell."

* * *

(You don't need to read the Author's Notes. I know they are annoying.)

Whew! It took me a long while to finish this chapter.

This chapter was originally a lot longer, but after a few rounds of reading it over, I found that some parts were excessive and should be omitted. I owe the strength to take out all the paragraphs I spent hours trying to come up with to the author Truman Capote, who once said: "I believe in the scissors more than the pencil."

It was really difficult to kill off the character I cherished more than any other in this story, so I decided I needed a lot of time to stage his death to my ultimate satisfaction. I think it came out alright. After all, it will never be written exactly how my mind envisioned it.

In the first half of the chapter, I included the lyrics to possibly the saddest song I have ever heard in my life.

It is called "Secret Game" by the Japanese composer Yuki Kajiura.

You can download the song for free on a site called Gendou, you just need an account first.

The song is also sung in Japanese. It is called "Himitsu." They are both under the anime "Noir".

Thanks for reading.


	12. The Punishment

_Chapter Twelve: The Punishment_

_2 years ago; 3 months post mortem._

Wandering down the hall at 2:30 am, I am only kept in the company of a dismal blanket of dark.

Just as it is easy to loose myself in this house, much more so in my own thoughts. There is a faint sense of pride in that. Some of the wretched cannot afford any thought—their imagination pains them more than reality.

Some shadow, one whose features I cannot make out, walks toward me now, with unknown intentions. My heart lurches. I step back.

"Rio?" He says, and I breathe relief when I know that it is my father. Grief stricken like I am, he lurks awake in the dark too. It's an almost comforting thought.

I don't answer, which he has learned to expect by now: I go through my mute spells, which was likely acquired from my late brother. But this does not vex him in the slightest; he holds out his hand and slowly inches nearer to me.

"I know I should have brought a candle. I don't want to step on your feet.." he muttered weakly. His voice is void of all the hope I have come to know it for. I guess this night has done its work on him. The day brings him solace, but the late hours take it away.

We hold hands through the dark, walking side by side. He's decided that we will wait out the night in the nearest study. I feel more elevated, less alone. I try to pretend the hand is Souta's. But it is much too rough and big for my imagination to overlook, and the feel of that dry skin cannot be compensated for. Souta's hand was thin, perhaps a little bony, and smooth. Angel smooth.

My mind reminds me that I cannot think of him—reminds me of how unbearable the thought is. It is intense enough to blanch my skin white, beckon the bile and make me tremble. The power of misery is too potent to try to relive a reverie, or evoke solace. At this stage, it simply cannot be done.

So it is Ken's hand, and I'll let it remain that way.

–

We sit on opposite ends of a dusty, wooden table. Our breath stirs the layers of time upon the old thing. Ken grows impatient with the books and tosses them to the ground, allowing their unwanted echoes to sound through the dead room. The echos startles a spider and, believing it has been threatened, descends up the ceiling upon the delicate base of it's web. A candle is lit and positioned in front of me. I squint in distaste. The darkness is so much more alluring and profound. The candle light soils it, only serving to my irritation. I peer up at my father, looking as sullen as that dreaded day left me.

He flicks a few stray bangs from his eyes, narrowing them. "It's a little...unfortunate that we can't sleep yet...convenient."

I nod listlessly. Ken breaks eye contact, and he brings me a disconcerting revelation:

"Haruko probably believed that Souta was mentally ill. She even implied this. 'You have a condition'.." Ken began, "That's why he...couldn't..." he shook his head.

After the initial shock wore off, I considered it. I knew, but I didn't say anything. It was too late to be talking of such things, yet...necessary. Sayuri would probably never disclose this to me.

"It wasn't enough," Ken continued. "She wouldn't accept him for who he really was or...who he was hiding. I felt that Rika might have been a more suitable choice. I heard that her sister is very superstitious, whereas Haruko never endeavored to believe such things."

I interposed: "But I thought that since they were together, then that meant it was—"

"Fate." Ken finished for me, nodding. "I thought that too. But it could be possible that a Hikari can find happiness with any of the female Haradas. The thought kept on nagging me until finally...I forbid them to interact with each other."

"That's why he said he'd get the 'beating of my life'.." I muttered scornfully, my angry gaze cast downward.

A subdued moment. Then:

"I'm sorry."

We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Strange, because I had never stared at someone this long. And it didn't feel awkward. We didn't need to say anything. The messages were conveyed through our expressions.

"Do you know how to break the curse?" he asked.

Unexpected. I stood still momentarily, then I shook my head, edging closer to him in deep interest.

"A Hikari must find his Sacred Maiden...and when he does, the time will come when it is necessary to tell her the truth. That..a part of them is not human, and that they are not normal. They come from a damned family, a tragic history, and a long line of suffering. And she is the one who can end it all.." He started, folding his hands on his lap. His eyes became stern and focused on me, solely.

"Then comes the most dire part of the whole charade—the answer. If she accepts him for who he really is, alter ego, curse and all—Krad would die off permanently and they can live their lives in happiness. And, what's more, future generations will not be affected by the curse. It will cease to repeat itself...forever."

My eyes widened.

"Souta--"

"Unfortunately for him...she did not accept. He never asked her. She never met Krad, nor was she ever informed of the Hikari history. Their pact was never completed. And it left him in the hands of death. The hands of the spirits of darkness who saw that he had not fulfilled his mission in time."

"So...he..."

Silence.

He reached over from the end of the wooden table and grasped my hand in his warm one. I hardly felt it, too stunned from shock.

"The spirits of darkness are killing us off...one by one. The 'cycle' officially started with Kojima, Sayuri's brother—_your_ uncle. Then, years later, it shifted to Hideki and Ritsuko...and then Setsuko...and now...Souta..." His voice broke.

"Now it is up to you, Rio. You are the only one who can save us now."

"What are you asking me?" I said, incredulously.

"We need you to get pregnant..hopefully with a male..before the bloodline dies out."

* * *

The rainy morning of a soundless and somber day found me in the study room, peering out of the window and contemplating nothing. The heavens appeared exceptionally lower now, infecting my universe with the heaviest gray. Clouds themselves seemed to seep over the horizon in agony, and the thunder was crying out to something..

In this interlude of silent pain, my thoughts took me to the most undesirable of places, to the lurid paintings of my consciousness that had never been brought to a canvas, nor could be cured by one. That was how _he_ endured, but those puddles of lifeless color never gave anything back to me. I just poured it all out. I emptied myself onto that blank space. And for what? Was this black gift meant to compensate for suffering?

If it was, then I was never to know it.

My mind was suddenly overcome with that notion again.

The ambulance never came.

I had suffered through that last, agonizing dawn with my sibling, unaware that, from the very beginning, it was already planned. He knew his death was inevitable.

They told me that Souta visited them in the study room weeks prior to his death to tell them, _"I accept it"_.

"_Accept what?"_ They asked. He responded:

"_The end."_

Certain conditions had to be met in order for him to die "peacefully". One, he wanted no help. Two, he wanted to die beside his sister.

But how was I to react had I known of this plan before that dreaded date? There was no need for me to know, he said. They would save me the pain by allowing me to dwell in my ignorance. I look back on the hints he gave, and I cry.

His demon claimed that one day it would not matter. He said that one day, he would not feel pain.

His prophecies came to fruition.

I found it impossible to accept that this tragedy, this cataclysmic event that ended my entire world...was planned. But still Sayuri sat upon the old satin couch, folded her legs and murmured from the end of her cigarette, _"Yes, he told me this. He knew, Rio. You may have been ensnared in your ignorance—but Souta was not. That day...after I told him the fate of my brother...he knew his ultimate destination was a premature death."_

I only stared.

"_I destroyed his hope, as my faith once left me forever as well. It was truly impossible __for things to have gone any other way. His spirit was broken permanently the day he was separated from you..."_ she withdrew the cigarette from her lips, _"That was his breaking point."_

That was_ my_ breaking point.

"_You miserable bitch!"_ I screamed manically, _"You let him die! You let him die!"_

Poisonous sentences echoed endlessly through the walls, through my mind, through an indifferent world, I felt.

Ken stood up from the couch with wide, unbelieving eyes. But Sayuri's only retaliation was a callous cloud of smoke. Not a single implication of being unnerved. Her azure eyes bore into mine, leaving a sort of imprint that was hard to dissuade, even in the solitary, nostalgic hours I was to spend on the darkened staircase afterward.

I pointed a quivering finger at her, shouting obscenities, denouncing...

But those accusations were only uttered out of madness. My life nor my sanity knew me anymore.

"_You stole my life from me! My life is gone! It's gone!"_ I shrieked, possessed by the demon of fury and helpless anguish.

And it was. It really_ was_ gone.

I became her statue. Soon was I to find my own place by a darkened window, immersed in a black sentiment that never eluded me, even while I lay on my empty bed, senseless and acknowledging no one.

_My_ empty bed...

Yet that did not hinder his apparition from walking about, just as Setsuko once stalked the inner recesses of my mind, murmuring dead words and portraying their part in a childhood that no longer existed.

In these two years proceeding my brother's ruin, I had forgotten her. She was thrown away by far more pervading thoughts, and her ghost itself seemed to disappear behind a flowing cascade of gold hair and haunting grey eyes. These dreaded colors. One signified the advent of a deviant, the other was soundless melancholy. Like that smile.

That abhorred, deceiving smile of his.

Why did he deceive me? Why did he make me believe? Why did he take my faith and leave me with nothing?

"_Why did you slip that pill into the water?"_

"_Because that's what Souta wanted."_ she said. When I left the room, she pulled out a sharpened table leg from underneath the couch.

The ensuing fight was soon forgotten: anguish erased the future and marred the present.

The last solitary hour ended when the tears blurred my vision; it ended when I died on those cold steps.

__

Light isn't a welcome visitor in the Hikari mansion. All of us here live as nocturnal, disturbed recluses humbled by excessive misery.

I had to learn to live in the dark. I had to learn to paint in the dark.

My life only consists of suffering. It's an adult thing. The emancipated really get a taste of the world, whereas children do not. For a multitude of fleeting days, they are kept from that. I now think Setsuko fortunate, though she had spent her last earthly reflections in pain, because she never knew the world like I did.

Thoughts like these pervade the day in entirety, as I stare out the window, again, at nothing.

A voice brakes the silence: "There's three women outside that want to talk to you."

His voice subtly startles me. I think my eyes widen slightly at the sound. Slowly, I turn around. "Who are they?" I whispered, astounded that I can speak still.

"One of them is a Niwa. That's all I can tell you. I don't know the other two."

Ken left the room without another word.

I wrap a shawl around my shoulders as I walk down the cobblestone walkway to the front gates. I approach them, wary and irritated—but silent and expressionless. I don't want people to see my face contort in pain ever again. Not ever again.

Indeed, the first one I noticed was Emiko. Her red hair had dulled, when it was so bright during her girlhood years. Its a shame to see her like this—undesirable, even—because I know that our estrangement from the Niwa family was just another antagonizing device of our unfortunate lives.

Her uniform brings back the formaldehyde, the cinnamon, the musk of that place. It brings back the dark, the cold floor, and that stinging pain on my leg. The scar reacts to the memory.

Haruko Harada dons black, as if she is mourning the loss of a spouse. Surprisingly enough, she humors an even darker countenance than I and, had I not been in my right mind, would envy her for that.

Her sister, Rika Harada, who I have never met until this very moment, is not too physically distinguishable from her somber sibling—except for maybe the darker, reddish chestnut locks and softer, inquiring eyes.

Though they all stand behind the gate, they bring me equal amounts of discomfort.

I try to read off their thoughts from their expressions; it proves a complete failure, though we all know we are solemn for that universal, disquieting reason.

I remain silent. I appreciate that Haruko seems detached, but Emiko and Rika's gazes are meeting mine precisely. Maybe they are trying to ascertain what I'm thinking too.

Unexpectedly, Rika speaks up: "I'm so sorry.." she murmurs, her voice almost asphyxiated by the wind.

I'm left speechless. I guess thats my mind's way of telling me that nothing need be said.

Emiko sighs and grasps Rika's hand, whispering in her ear. She nods appreciatively, wearing a broken smile for the briefest moment.

Haruko's despondent eyes, however, harden into orbs of obscure hostility. No one seemed to notice it but me. Probably because she was fixated on nothing _but_ me.

Wordless as she came, she had also left, her black funeral dress dancing to the gust of the wind.

Her sister stares after her in mild disbelief, while Emiko's eyes never left mine. Almost as if she wants me to express disappointment, or possibly disgust at Haruko's impertinence.

"Are you ever going to come back?" Emiko asks.

To what? Society? School? Why did it matter what she meant? With all the possibilities came the same answer:

"No."

And so Rika and Emiko leave without further correspondence from any of us—even amongst themselves. They dispatched the property in total silence.

As I walked back to the mansion, I passed by Souta's flowerbed. I see the disturbed soil. The memory greets me.

I remember I had gone mad that day.

In a bout of insanity, I attempted to retrieve his remains from the earth. Sayuri and Ken beat me into the dirt and shouted, _"Are you insane? Do you want to sleep with him now, __too?"_

Eventually, Sayuri grew tired of lowering my position from that of a human being to a misbehaving dog and left the scene. I wept. Ken remained close behind, staring at me from behind a pillar of the mansion, a cigarette in his mouth. As I had become her statue, I had also become the subject of one of Souta's paintings.

Apparitions of my siblings stood over my form, silently watching.

That girl lying on the grave...was me. (*)

* * *

_2 years later_

Sayuri began to exhibit extremely odd behavior.

It began with the house guards—which is not a surprise in itself, since they are usually the first of her victims.

Then, whilst taking my daily roam about the halls, I noticed women dressed in urban attire, leaving with their maid garb held close to their chest. They exchanged my glimpse. And before I knew it, they were gone.

The initial number was two by day—usually women—being fired for silly, worthless reasons. If a maid dropped a tray and sent echoes throughout the normally quiet mansion, they were "asked" to leave. And from discharging on the grounds of silly and worthless reasons, it transcended to ludicrous ones. If a butler did not receive Sayuri in less than 30 seconds, no matter what floor he was from—he left.

Then exactly a month after, the toll rose up to 3 an hour. The house became emptier, and Ken complained harshly. He said that firing all of the house guards would not solve anything—and her cryptic reply was, "Of course it will. It solves everything."

Ken and I were left to the rather frightening prospect that Sayuri's sanity had finally left her entirely, and her mind was truly irretrievable. She relentlessly continued to fire off servants, until about 10 maids, 7 butlers and absolutely no house guards were left. The remaining members of our entourage were assigned to the third floor, where their bedroom was located.

My father implored her to come back to herself, trying to persuade her to rehire them—he addressed them as "vagabonds" for some unknown reason.

In penance, she replaced the house guards with knights—thousands of them—all situated against the wall, in the hopes of making Ken "feel better".

He stood in the hallway, gaping at them.

All who had once lived here, deceased or living, felt strongly that Sayuri's violent behavior was brought from a mental affliction. I had believed it myself—for a while. But now I do not think so. She is so vindictive when erred against that her methods of consoling herself are often misunderstood and seen as bizarre. But to her, it makes perfect sense. A beating on the part of the abuser requires a beating on the part of the abused. An eye for an eye. The simplest conviction of justice.

It was _how much_ she dwelled on this matter, how deeply she immersed herself in this dark truth was what really confounded and frightened us.

You will see shortly what I mean.

* * *

Author's POV

* * *

Sayuri sat in the drawing room with a book in her hand, reading placidly. Rio, on the other hand, was gazing out of the window at nothing in particular. Ken had disappeared into the study, pondering over "subjects of sublime nostalgia"—as Sayuri had termed it. No one deemed it fit to bother him, as his daughter and wife were too involved in themselves to really care.

The hours belonged to no one, and as such, flitted by like minutes without notice.

When the first rays of light began to dim, Sayuri's senses heightened unexpectedly. Somehow, something was terribly amiss. It was not the feeling of dread she had harbored in her heart all these many years that had finally gripped her fancy, but just the atmosphere of this place, the quiet, that got her so unnerved. On ordinary days the silence gave no token of unrest—quite the opposite. But something now, and she had not the faintest idea what, was ample cause for alarm.

This suspicious sentiment went unnoticed by her daughter. Sayuri soundlessly placed her book on the arm of her chair and walked out of the drawing room, not caring to close the door. She left with an uncomfortable draft coming in, which agitated Rio, but she had not the strength to complain.

Sayuri felt that a stroll through the halls would serve as a sufficient medicine to clear her mind, but it only seemed to heighten the fear, that peculiar sort of anticipation that had no reason for being there. But she was not unfamiliar to this. Ken had dubbed them "bad feelings". He told her not to ignore them. She obeyed with some reverence for what he said, as it was on sound ground to believe that in a cursed family, anything could befall them if they had no foresight to prevent it. But then again, foresight had not saved her sister, no her brother, nor her son and daughter. She felt some ailment seize her stomach the day her sister died. She blamed herself. She ignored her intuition and allowed that sleazy dirt bag to drive her sister home, when she had smelled the alcohol on his breath.

For her brother's demise, it was certainly untimely—she also received no warning for Setsuko. It was just like any other day, the only difference being that it ended in tragedy. It pained her to think that her daughter's death could have been prevented if she had just waited for her at the school. But it was that something...just something drew her to leave to find her brother and sister. That day, out of all the days of the year, she wanted to walk home with her siblings.

But oh, for Souta—she knew. And it wasn't that she ignored that feeling. Ken had just acted on his own. He deliberately disobeyed, when he had no jurisdiction in this family. When they were married, he acknowledged that she was the one who had lived through this, the one who knew the ropes of this ruthless game. When she said something, it was to be obeyed—there was _reason_ behind it. Not just a violent lunatic's whim to keep her son home. She woke up feeling sick to her stomach, and she just knew that his death was drawing near. He was not to go outside, _especially_ for something so trivial like raising money for his sister's dowry. She had told Ken this. Still it died on deaf ears. And now?

Her son is dead. A new addition to the collection of the befallen.

Then suddenly she heard a noise. Like talking. Not to say talking was uncommon, but it seemed very hushed and secretive. _Too_ hushed and secretive for her taste. She hoped that, when she traced the source of the voices, she would happen upon a butler and a maid conversing over the queer happenings in this unstable old mansion. Hm, perhaps she would fire them both.

Taking a small detour into the kitchen, she snatched a kitchen knife from the drawer and closed it very, very slowly. As if she were afraid of being within earshot herself. Sayuri then proceeded up the steps. A slight satisfaction pervaded her consciousness as she heard the voices grow just a tiny bit louder.

A small ray of light shown through the two doors. There was muffling, no, not really muffling, but muttering. Yes, muttering, she was sure. She could detect the low, young voice of Ken anywhere. After all, it was a voice she had been forced to endure through out a marriage spanning some fifteen years. But the other one—that one she did not know. It was a woman, she could quickly deduce, but she hadn't remembered it straight away. She hadn't heard that voice in years. Judging by the sound of her, she had not dared to talk in years. Ken must be talking to someone, a maid or other. A maid?

There were only 10 left. That was when she remembered—there were supposed to seven maids here, tending to or waiting on orders on this floor. This was her bedroom. No, this was_ their_ bedroom. Ken knew that no one—_no one_—with the exception of Souta, was allowed in here. Now that he was gone, that obviously meant that Ken and Sayuri were to be the only ones allowed in their bedroom. But what was this? Another maid in the bedroom? Talking to him in a hushed, secretive whisper? What the hell was going on?

She opened the door, baring the kitchen knife for the intruder to see. Though,_ intruder _seemed a little strong for this situation.

It was the house maid, who had served them for many years—Kayako. And Ken. In a rather...compromising position.

They were...kissing...each other.

Ken immediately detached himself from her, murmuring nonsensical gibberish of varying volume. Something like an apology—or an "Oh God". It hardly mattered. She was in no state to comprehend any form of language. Her mind had completely gone blank.

Kayako ran her fingers through her hair nervously, covering her face with the disheveled, black heap. Turning away in shame, she averted her eyes to the floor, on the verge of tears.

Sayuri and Ken—wife and husband—stared each other down for what seemed like an eternity. An eternity...

A lie.

It had been a lie. Her marriage had been just another bad joke.

After the shock wore off, after the surprise and dismay had ran it's brief, intense course through her veins, she was possessed by the spirit of anguish.

Sayuri lifted the knife. A simple conviction of justice.

An eye for an eye.

* * *

( *) - For those of you astute readers out there, before the auction where the massacre took place, Rio had described a painting of Souta's that shows a girl laying on a grave. And if you remember the other ones he did, you can see that he illustrated quite a few motifs surrounding his impending death.

Thank you for reading and please review!


	13. Coming Of Age

I haven't updated in forever so I don't expect many readers, but those that do read, thank you for sticking with me this long! And Cappie, thanks for checking up on me.

_Chapter Thirteen: Coming of Age_

_Rio, 16_

About the year I turned eight, and Setsuko died, we started this horrible decline downhill. Forbidden from school, it worsened. Then my brother died. I became a true recluse. We cut ourselves off from the world, completely.

It was Sayuri and I who embraced our melancholy universe inside that insipid mansion, guarded by a dense and fortified forest. In our loneliness we bled out work that would cover the walls of the Sistine Chapel.

Ken descended into depression, Sayuri descended into madness. They fought and screamed, and despair held high over us like a perpetual cloud.

I visited the graves of my siblings in-between fasting for sadness' sake and painting. The carnations still bloomed over Setsuko and thrived over Souta, as if 6 feet underground were a place _I_ should be, a place more promising. I wondered if the world underneath was what the religions said it was, or if it was just a nothingness where no one who resided there felt anything. Sometimes I longed to find out, but I hadn't the guts to ever attempt to..

I shouldn't say that I completely shut myself off from the world. It's a little inaccurate. In fact, I still had some semblance of a social life: guards and maids became the surrogates for Souta, Setsuko and lately, Ken. We would all sit under the lamp light of the library and grumble about the issues we'd been dealing with for years. Sometimes, we'd play poker or bridge while we gossiped (we had some older maids, so I had to learn). Other times, we would exchange stories.

This particular conversation veered into protest against Sayuri's erratic behavior.

"Master Ken is being driven to suicide. Look at what that woman's done to him." She inclined her chin toward the ceiling, as if it would play back for us all the spite, the outright malice, and give us more to complain about. The woman in question was somewhere in the dark brooding over a canvas, high up on some mountain floor like a hateful beast in hibernation. We were free to blaspheme against her for the time being.

The woman who said this shook her head at the memories and idly rearranged her apron. The butler next to her said, "He never told me right out, but he was a man from a lower family."

A red-bearded, blue-eyed man said: "Yeah, his mother was poor and his father left when he was eight. He'd had to take care of her all the time, cooking and cleaning. Then Sayuri came round, fixed him up real nice, and they got married."

I remember my surprise at finding we had a Scottish butler in here. I didn't know it in my youth, but our mansion was quite the melting pot before the majority of them were fired.

"She was rebellious, her mother told me. She got pregnant with Souta when she was seventeen. That's why she had to marry Ken, even if he didn't have a cent in his pocket. If she didn't, it would only mortify the Hikaris even more. She was never popular with her mother to begin with, so that really was the cherry on top of the cake there," one of our more garrulous maids chimed in.

"_Seventeen_?" I inquired, astonished.

"Aye."

"Ah, Souta was such a quiet thing," a dark-haired maid dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. "He never cried or anything. Always so peaceful in his crib. Was the most well-behaved baby you ever saw. It's so hard to remember in detail, though—that damnable woman hides his baby pictures for some reason—like she can't stand the sight of them."

The garrulous one interposed again: "Where are all the family albums? Where are all the portraits and the like? She locked 'em all up 'n that chest o' hers! Either that, or she burned them up."

The mentioning of the chest confused me at first, but it came to me that, on the occasion that I was beaten in her room, I'd seen a chest that appeared like a dark apparition with a key hole for teeth. There were articles in there, I think. Were our albums in there also? All of Souta and Setsuko's baby pictures? Photos from Sayuri and Ken's wedding? Or Sayuri when she was pregnant?

"Did you see the albums?" I asked anyone interestedly. "Any pictures?"

The Scottish man rubbed his red, stubby chin. "Aye, I seen a little bit. Not your brother, or your sister, though. Some a' Sayuri, some a' Ken, on their wedding, and her brother, the one that offed himself, with his mum 'n ded."

"Sayuri's brother killed himself?" A maid blurted. "How?"

"He hung himself in his bedruhm closet, Master Ken told me." The Scottish man nodded gravely to the woman's disbelief.

"Ev'ry thin goes wrong here," an elderly man suddenly proclaimed through the ragged lips and wide gaps between his broken teeth, peering up at the lamp light. "They's cursed."

I narrowed my eyes and he noticed.

"Oh, ahm sorry!" His fingers retreated into his palms and he looked at me sadly. It wasn't that he'd said it and forgotten of my presence at this table, so much that it was true.

**

I hadn't set foot in the East Wing for years, so it was an odd feeling to be on that ground again. The place felt dead yet alive with things I couldn't touch, like Souta's presence and the memories of childhood. It was almost as if they were being relived every day here, and the hall missed me. I knew _I_ missed it.

The faded crayon marks on the doors were still subtly noticeable. Blue for the "Sage of Sleep". Red for the "Saint of Tears". Yellow for the "Second Hand of Time".

I dreamed about this. Walking down a hallway, alone. It was so dark, and I knew I lost something. But what it was remained a mystery to me. So I thought about Souta's fuzzy penguin and Mrs. Cat. They didn't provide the answer. And that's when I knew. I realized what I'd lost—him. It was an ominous message that Souta was hanging on a fraying, unstable thread far above my head, waiting to fall.

The fuzzy penguin and the cat could still be in the closet.

I ceased my walk and reversed my path up the stairs to find them. How foolish of me to have never taken them out, and just let them collect dust like that. It was deplorable. How would Souta's memory progress then? His face would begin to blur and every word he said to me that I'd taken the incentive to remember would lose their clarity and authenticity. That couldn't be allowed to happen.

I ventured up to the second floor, where my bedroom was. I was faintly curious as to why there were few signs of life there. All of the guards were gone but there were some maids and butlers still walking about somewhere. Their footsteps were still resounding throughout the house. Faint, but there.

In my room I found said penguin and cat in the closet where they were unjustly abandoned, including the dust-filmed art piece known as "Angel of the Night". I placed them carefully into an old treasure box that belonged to Souta in his youth.

Setsuko's school uniform. I thought it was still tucked in my pillow case.

With that in mind I started to list all of my sibling's possessions that I could remember. In minutes they were all congregated in a pile on my bed.

Surveying my accomplishment, I felt somewhat better about the whole sour ordeal. Being able to cherish these things and hug them like they were mine brought some comfort.

I was reminded that I hadn't slept in my bed for months.

All of a sudden I heard faint murmuring on the floor above me. I began to imagine that Sayuri had just fired someone and that they were arguing over it. The voices rose a few octaves, and I grew worried. The violence between my mother and father was already excessive.

There were maids screaming and hollering in an outraged coterie in Sayuri's room. This was shocking because the only people who've ever set foot in Sayuri's room were obviously Ken, Souta, herself and me (and I had no right to be there in the first place). Guards, maids, and butlers were not allowed in under any circumstances. It was customary for Sayuri to enact strange policies, so the reason for this arrangement was beside the point. No one was allowed in there. Period.

"Get off of her! Get away from that damn whore right now!" I heard Sayuri cry with astonishing vehemence.

No one was listening to her, so she started kicking them away. There were others crowding around the door to watch the spectacle. As I wanted to do the same I drew nearer, but the crowd would not permit me to see.

My father squeezed out of the throng as something made a sharp _swish_ sound. Ken cried out and tumbled to the ground. His strength having been brought to nothing with a knife lunged in the back of his thigh, he resorted to dragging himself across the floor. The shouting reached an all-time high as dozens ran to his assistance. I watched, stupefied, as his struggling body left a road of blood in its wake.

Sayuri emerged from the crowd like the leader of a pack of vicious dogs, heaving in unprecedented fury, her brilliant blue hair strewn about her in a wild fashion, and beads of sweat and foreign blood upon her forehead and chest. Her high heels were nowhere to be found; she was barefoot like some savage caveman, and her clothes shown evidence of being pulled and ripped at the seams.

The crowd persisted in obviating her from attaining her object, a ready knife in her tightly clenched fist.

My heart was thudding out of my chest. I was left to consider if Sayuri had finally lost her mind.

Ken lunged and landed on me with a desperate shout. I fell down with him as the noise intensified. Sayuri screamed obscenities about him and Kayako that I won't relay.

"She...she'll..." he choked and spewed blood, tainting my white gown. It pierced my understanding that he had been stabbed more than once. Blood stains I hadn't seen before were appearing everywhere, as if he were a punctured water balloon. I began hyperventilating. My breathing became labored and no coherent thought could emerge.

Ken managed to stand and tried to drag me down the steps with him. I could see no benefit from this—he was obviously the one in danger; he had no business trying to save me from a woman whose only target was him. Nonetheless he cried, "She'll kill you, too! She'll kill you, Rio! Come on!"

A butler ran to Ken's aid and slung his arm over his shoulder to assist him down the stairs. "I'll get you out of here, sir," he bravely announced.

"Someone get Kayako! Someone—!"

I cried out when I saw that he'd been stabbed through the hand and the upper region of his left shoulder blade, in addition to places on each of his thighs that were, again, new to me.

He screamed again, "Run, Rio! She'll kill you!" as he clumsily limped down the steps with the butler in tow.

Sayuri tried to chase Ken but was withheld by the maids. She slashed this way and that, but they held fast.

Ken ran out of the house with the butler, but outside I heard him holler "Don't follow me!", and the butler obeyed. He closed the door behind him and ran up to retrieve me just as Sayuri was winning the struggle.

**

Immediately following the barbaric violence I was apprehended by one of our more muscular man-servants. We called him Kinniku because all he was made of was muscle. Those who knew him longer were allowed to call him 'Niku', which alone means 'meat' or 'beef'. He muttered a gruff apology under his breath and escorted me to a vacant room in the servant's quarters. "Stay here, Miss Hikari," he grumbled with a grumpy, out of breath tone. "They're keeping her upstairs, so you don't need to be afraid anymore.."

For my safety? Or to keep me quiet and out of the way? It was at this point I knew he really wasn't sure what he should be saying to me.

"She's keeping me here so I don't run away and tell someone what happened, right?" I observed as composedly as I could manage.

"I don't know where Master Hikari is...but I'm sure he's gotten help. Those wounds...they were many, but didn't seem like the fatal kind. That'd be fixed from a few weeks in the hospital, I think. He's recovering, I'm sure of it, Miss Hikari, no need to worry!" His voice boomed with ridiculous emotion, and though he was so physically domineering, he was emotionally lacking. He wanted to grieve. My father's disappearance left him to think the worst.

"I know my father's alright," I said, perhaps even more foolishly than he did. I tried to lower the seriousness of the situation by taking myself back to the time when Sayuri had cut him while she was slicing vegetables, but that was Souta's testimony and the event never caused such pandemonium to erupt.

"She's the devil," he began bitterly, "But your father is a good person. He didn't allow Sayuri to completely destroy him—and for that I respect him. I know God wouldn't smite a person like that."

My cynical world view wouldn't allow me to agree.

For two days I was trapped within the servant's quarters, looking drearily upon the vast meadow outside my window that seemed tainted with gray grass and and even darker sky. My mood worsened things, made the colors appear grotesque. Even knowing this, I couldn't shake it off.

At night, my guardian's folded, full arms would soften as he dozed off; it was almost adorable to see those hardened black eyes turn cloudy with sleep and then slowly close. Even in slumber he was alert, hearing out for any intruders. This was when I felt it safe to sleep myself.

The mornings were silent and eerie. The fray was still too strong in my mind. Initially, the hours drew on in silence.

I was brought back into the land of the living by a sudden exaltation, followed by excessive chatter downstairs. Having no access to the door I took to the window instead, where I noticed there was an odd pair at the entrance. I tensed considerably.

The gates flung open freely, owing to the absence of guards. Two men walked up the causeway and into the forest. Some ten minutes later, they were at our front door. This both frightened and intrigued me, so I followed suit of the other interested maids and butlers as they descended down the steps to the base floor. The man who arrested me held guard over all my movements and followed very closely.

At the door all was a great spur of commotion and indistinct conversation. Through this confusion I managed to glimpse at a maid hiding a knife in her apron. Were these men that much cause for concern, or had the events of this week left everyone excessively paranoid? The latter seemed more viable than anything.

After Sayuri deemed that they take up random occupations, the doors were opened to the newcomers.

One was a rather handsome-looking young man who fashioned the common policeman garb, though his air was that of a much higher, prestigious rank. I wondered what his history might be. Judging by his appearance alone he seemed about in his late twenties. I was quick to lose my interest in him when his gruff looking friend arrested my attention.

'Detective Saehara' read his name tag. Despite being hardly out of the teenage bandwagon he dressed in a similar manner to Doyle's Sherlock Holmes, which really drove in the notion of a inexperienced junior. All he needed was a magnifying glass and a hat on his head.

In a second their ID's were unfolded, displayed before Sayuri (though I couldn't read them), and shoved into their pockets. The older, sophisticated one took charge of the situation.

"Mrs. Hikari, we would like to ask you a few questions."

She clutched her hip. "Yes?"

He cut right to the chase. "Mrs. Hikari, where is your husband?"

Silence. It took a second or two to answer, which was uncharacteristic of Sayuri. Her replies (her insults likewise) are often prompt. I deduced a clever lie was being conceived.

"I haven't the slightest idea."

I felt her composure beginning to wane with that statement; I would have expected her to come up with something better than that.

Saehara blinked. "Mrs. Hikari, you are under suspicion for your husband's disappearance. We would like to inspect your house while interviewing you and your subordinates. Refusal will result in your immediate arrest."

Sayuri silently acquiesced and started down the hall. They both entered and the unnamed police officer closed the door behind them.

Detective Saehara and his unnamed friend walked through the halls stiffly on the way to the drawing room. They glimpsed at the portraits and artwork of long-gone family members as they passed.

Our personal staff returned the dark, suspicious looks as they worked around the house, pretending to polish the knights poised against the walls or dusting objects that didn't need dusting. The Detective seemed rather disinterested in his surroundings and only kept his sight on Sayuri's back, as if she were going to make some threatening move any moment. His companion, however, was off in another world.

To my perturbation he was fascinated by everything he saw in our home—in particular, the paintings and statues of Greek and Roman gods and goddesses. We even had a few Samurai warriors carved from black marble here and there, and they really made his eyes pop. I believe one of my great grandfathers made them, or maybe a great uncle. Truth be told, I don't remember.

"This house is so _powerful_," he whispered to Saehara, who ignored him intently. "The Hikari ancestry is simply magnificent, don't you think? A secluded mansion on a hill top harboring such astounding work—it's simply something out of a dream!"

Sayuri turned into the drawing room and layed the snake-like elegance that was her body on a red velvet couch. Her legs crossed each other and she folded her hands on her lap with precision. The policeman and his companion ensconced themselves as well, but I stood by the doorway, waiting for the fiery inquiries that would finish us all and burn our lives to the ground.

"I wish I had your artistic power, Mrs. Hikari." He smiled cheerfully, only for it to be downplayed by a displeased frown on her part.

Sayuri shook her head, "No. No you don't."

Detective Saehara took the initiative. "So tell me, Mrs. Hikari, the exact circumstances pertaining to the last time you saw your husband. We would also like to know why you never notified us of his disappearance—a servant came in with the news."

Sayuri replied, "There was an argument, followed by a physical confrontation. I'd caught him in a compromising position with our maid-servant, Miss Kayako. I was appropriately outraged. And I hadn't notified the proper authorities because there was no cause for such action. My husband ran off with her. I don't think he went far."

They both raised their eye brows at this. I could only gape at her treacherous fib: if this 'compromising position' is insinuating that Sayuri caught them in bed together, that was an outright lie. Ken fled the mansion fully-clothed.

The Detective turned to me after jotting in a little notebook. "Is this correct, Madam?"

I considered briefly the consequences that would befall me should I betray her, and said, "Yes."

"About this 'physical confrontation'...did he or Miss Kayako retaliate?"

Sayuri laughed. "I will admit here and now, that _I_ was being more physical than anything. He was about to hit me when a butler—Mr. Takada is his name—restrained him. Then he aided him in his escape."

I bit my lip pensively. I'd have to remember to say goodbye to Mr. Takada when I got the chance.

"And what happened after that, Mrs. Hikari?" asked Detective Saehara.

"Kayako shouted a curse at me and retreated from the premises with my husband."

She did _not_. No one will speak about what happened to her. I've asked around, and those that know won't let a word leave their mouths. Kayako feared Sayuri like one would fear a totalitarian dictator. She'd never direct any ill will toward Sayuri—physical or otherwise.

"Do you have any idea where we might locate him?"

"No." She said sharply. "And that's been eating away at me as well. He _has_ nowhere to go, and neither does his little mistress. They both lived here for quite a long time, you know."

"I understand that you own quite a lot of property around the city of Azumano," began the policeman. I found it quaint that he'd completely derail the subject like that. "Last I heard, you bought the museum—"

"Ah, yes." she said, as if presented with a completely new possibility, "He could be in any of those places, perhaps maybe a cottage or a resort—we'd go to those places on special occasions. Did you check any of them, Mr. Hiwatari?"

Hiwatari smiled, and it rubbed me the wrong way. "Yes we have. I'm sorry to say that he's still nowhere to be found, which is why we had to contact you. You are being quite honest with us. We deeply appreciate this. In fact, I think we'll find your husband in no time. Hopefully, you both can sort this thing out through some old fashioned marital counseling."

She crushed her cigarette between her lithe fingers. "Preferably through an old fashioned _divorce_. And the court proceedings for separation of property."

They were both taken aback by her hostility. Hiwatari narrowed his eyes. "On that note, after we interrogate every maid and butler and search the house from top to bottom...we would like it if you came with us."

She did not reply, but exhibited the intention to leave the room.

Saehara pulled out a pair of hand cuffs from his coat pocket. "We would also like it if you wouldn't make this difficult."

**

Sayuri, Mr. Takada and I were taken to the police station.

Last I saw her, Sayuri was nonchalantly smoking a cigarette in a holding cell. Mr. Takada went with Hiwatari for questioning. I was interrogated by Det. Saehara.

"I'd like you to remember your childhood, Miss Hikari. Can you explain to me what it was like?" He sat on the metal chair opposite me and turned on the recorder. I broke eye contact. It probably wasn't very smart to do that, because these days the men of the police department are trained to read everything on a person's face.

"It was—okay," I can't exactly say wonderful. That would be too outrageous. "Before I was five, I'd already been to Spain, Italy, China, India and a lot of other countries...and I met so many people and made so many friends..."

"But around the time you turned six, that changed, didn't it? They started attending social gatherings closer to home, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"Why do you think that was?"

"I don't know. Sayuri and Ken were rich, and rich people get bored easily. They probably didn't feel like traveling any more."

"Or, just to give you a possibility—maybe your mother was suffering from depression—as she often did?"

"Excuse me?"

"I happened to pick up some things from the former servants of your grandparents. They said that in Sayuri's youth, she was often—if I can use their exact words—"moody and irritable", and she took a lot of prescription drugs—Prozac, migraine pills..."

"I didn't know that. Neither of my parents mentioned anything of that nature to me."

"Not even the servants?"

"I'm afraid not."

He looked doubtful, of course, but I was lying to the best of my ability.

"Forgive me for bringing up this disconcerting subject—but can you tell me what you remember about your brother, Souta?"

"He was—"

What could I say about him that wasn't incriminating?

"...He was a very caring brother. He always made sure I never got hurt or got into any trouble. If I had problems with someone, he'd deal with them for me, and he loved Setsuko very dearly too. We were always playing. We did everything together."

"That's very sweet." He was horrible at faking empathy. "Do you think you can tell me about Setsuko?"

"Umm...she was very happy. Even when Souta and me were down, she knew how to cheer us up. She never bothered with sadness, really. Setsuko was just—bubbly, you know?"

"Hm."

I was continually questioned on my childhood, my brother, and my sister—almost every aspect of my life. When he finally decided that I'd given no information of particular use to the case against Sayuri, I was released.

**

Hiwatari and Sayuri had been conversing in the holding cell since 4 o' clock in the afternoon. Now time drew on painfully, reaching midnight with sweat from the stuffy atmosphere of a closed-off room and tears of anger, frustration, and denial to accompany it. It was understood that she would be detained until further notice. Sayuri seethed at the acknowledgment. She didn't have time for this.

In an attempt at a moral anecdote, Hiwatari began: "My dear mother was—"

"Spare me. I could care less about your mother," Sayuri spat.

"Touchy." His lips stretched out into a cruel smile, and he spread his hands out on the table where the files lay untouched. "Trust me, Mrs. Hikari, I know more about you than you can imagine. You often get out of things by exerting your will as a dictator or blinding men with your looks. These dense cops don't stand a chance against a conniving tramp like you—but I do. You're negligent: if you'd walked your youngest daughter home from school, she wouldn't be dead. Your son turned into a hermit and a basket-case because of the things you forced him to endure. I also know that what happened to your parents wasn't a coincidence. You're working your way up the food chain. Just months before their deaths, they changed their will and stipulated Souta as their heir. He's dead. It passed on to Ken, since he's the next male. Now he suddenly disappears? Oh, and don't even get me started on your daughter. Those bruises she has? I know she didn't do that to herself."

But she was resolute; he could accuse her of murder, negligence, child abuse and what have you, but she wouldn't say anything. If he wanted to waste her life in this cell, then she was more than obliged to reciprocate. As it had been all day, their one-sided conversation ended in a stale-mate, and he left for momentary refreshment.

Sayuri had resorted to muttering to herself in those lonesome minutes, when Hiwatari was out getting coffee or just relaying his frustration with her obstinacy to others.

When he reentered, she expected an argument to ensue, but he said nothing, nor did he look at her until he had gotten comfortable. He set a manilla folder on the metal table and sat down. His voice was composed. "You are being indicted for two counts of attempted murder, three intentional torts, (though these should be the least of your worries) and corruption of a minor. Through the arduous work of a brilliant lawyer, some of the lesser charges may be dropped, but I assure you, you'll be doing some time for your attempted murder charges."

Her eyes went cold.

Added Hiwatari: "Miss Kayako Kasuga will be testifying."

"So..." The absence of a cigarette was weighing more on her nerves than the prospect of going to prison. "You found _her_, but not my husband, I deduce."

"Her state is critical."

Sayuri's eyebrow quirked. "I hope you're not thinking of laying that at _my_ feet, Commissioner. I didn't hurt her that bad."

"A confession. However small, I'm glad to see we're making progress." Hiwatari smiled. Then it faded. His demeanor turned gravely serious. "Forgive me for being the bearer of bad news..." he began.

Sayuri knew where this was going. She closed eyes and her chin faced the ground. "I don't want the details," her voice came in a low murmur.

"Are you so sure of what I was going to tell you?"

"Our family is fraught with personal tragedy. This is hardly something to be surprised at."

Hiwatari's face expressed sympathy, an emotion unfamiliar to him. She had been putting up a fortress of a front, but the remembrance of her ill-fated children brought down her last wall. His unspoken revelation was just something less likely to heal over time.

Sayuri lifted her head and edged toward the end of the seat, and in so doing she was allowed a better look at the station through the glass. People seemed to be in a panic, picking up and putting down the phones, accepting calls, ending them. The officers jogged rather than walked, and mouths moved at a quick pace. She saw one officer throw his hands up in the air as he retold some terrible event and grabbed at this and that to dramatize it. And then she caught her daughter, writhing with her every limb and sobbing, as Det. Saehara stood over her, patting her shoulder.

* * *

_2 years later_

_Rio, age 18_

* * *

Thumbing through the newspapers around September and early October of 1985, you'd only see this:

_Mysterious Artist Dies_

_New Addition To Hikari Tragedy: Ken Hikari, Husband And Father, Dies At 43_

_Tragic End To Great Man: In Memory Of Ken Hikari_

_Burning Building Collapses On Man and Child, authorities say. More on B3_

And, perchance, walk down the street and happen to overhear things like this:

"....He cheated on her and wouldn't you know..."

"...I can't believe that he's dead..."

"Well, I can believe it; they're jinxed..."

I know I did. I read obsessively over him, meticulously underlining, with a worn-out yellow and pink highlighter, all the lies I could find. I wanted to address the press and correct all the misunderstandings, but there were too many facts staring back at me in black and white...

Chicago Sun Times – Ken Hikari dies : Tokyo, Japan. The world was shocked and dismayed at the untimely death of Souta Hikari, 14, at the hands of an extortionist organization that carried out assassinations for their clients. The group, who carried the name 'Yakuza', an organization similar to the American Mafia, executed a mass slaying at the Azumano Museum, home to more than 30,000 precious works, including the work of the Hikaris from centuries before. Now what was once thought of as a stroke of extremely bad luck for the Hikari family has been solidified for millions of people around the world. On August 23rd, in a last act of chivalry, Ken Hikari, 43, ran into a burning building after hearing the cries of a little girl trapped inside. Fireman Masahiro Takahashi claims that he saw Ken Hikari with the little girl in his arms. "He found her in the closet," the bereaved fireman reports, "We sent people up there with a ladder, but the building collapsed—"

_New York Times, September 3, 1985 – Claims of infidelity before husband's untimely death denied by Sayuri Hikari; police say otherwise—_

The testimony given to me by Det. Saehara was this: "He ran in there to save a little girl. She was trapped in her bedroom closet. But when he finally managed to retrieve her, the building was too weak to sustain itself."

Afterward, he sat down with me and rubbed my shoulders. I collapsed onto him, and I wept.

I think Sayuri was the first to know. I saw her looking at me expectantly as Saehara began, "Miss Hikari, I know this is difficult to accept..."

The funeral arrangements were small and preceded those of Setsuko and Souta. He assumed his place beside his son and daughter, under a bed of red carnations. I remember telling her that should I die before her, I wanted to be laid next to Souta. I received a slap across the face for foolishly bringing up my impending death when we were already grieving. As further chastisement, he was buried next to Souta, which would only leave me Setsuko as a partner in death—and doubtlessly, when Sayuri died, she would want to be buried next to her favorite—leaving my final resting place next to the woman I loathed more than any living creature.

Sayuri, like a faithful widow, wore black all the time—in dress, in demeanor, in mood. She entered her forties with a passive bitterness that went without notice. Her baby curls began to turn gray. She was thinner, nearer to menopause than any woman at her age should be. Barren and empty, no longer able to bear children for me, even if she wanted to. Her beauty had grown old, but retained itself, eerily. I could still see her young face. The face from 24, when I was a child, and the face from 30, that barely looked any different, or 36, when there was only one crow's foot at the end of every eye.

Now that I felt I was reaching that crucial moment too soon, Sayuri became outdated to me. She had outlived herself. It's hard to look at her some days.

I'm five feet four. A humble height to me. My hair relaxed into mermaid waves, no jungle-thickness, no tight Shirley Temple curls to make me groan and tear at my scalp. The color had faded into a greenish aqua, as opposed to the bright blue I used to have. I have a pianist's hands, and nails that grow too fast and break just as quick. I haven't given up my penchant for frilly white frocks and dresses. The pendant has, by now, paled its own ring around my neck from never being taken off. My skin is pallid and my veins show. I look in the mirror more nowadays, noticing the change, saying to myself every time, "What a piece of work."

I tend to abstain from wax, glass and clay. These materials have an ominous vitality I don't appreciate. When I make something out of clay, I imagine it dancing in the night and going still only when I wake. I fear that my sculptures stare at me with the moonlight illuminating their blank, barely outlined eyes, like the creature of Frankenstein. Painting and sketching remain my only vessels.

Sayuri will churn out work every now and again, but her talents are put to better use in the throes of misery. One of her paintings, a snowy landscape called 'Kuro no Kumo,' had the most profound effect on my consciousness than anything I had ever seen. The black clouds drew me in and made me feel I was slipping inside. Interestingly, she'd rather read the newspaper on the couch than dabble in her aesthetic abilities.

On a lighter note, my muscular, emotional guardian seems to grow kinder to me day by day. Whenever I'm sick, he's there before I can even call for assistance. Migraines run in my family, so whenever I get them, I can't emit the slightest groan without seeing him at my bedroom door with a pillow, a glass of water, and two pills. "Take them," he always says. "Lay down and rest."

"I'm fine," would be my usual reply, and he would retaliate, "No, lay down, there's a good girl. Now take these. Take them, it'll make you feel better. Why don't you ever take them?"

He is in his late thirties, but Kinniku is one of those people whose face you can easily reconstruct back to youth, like Sayuri's or Ken's. He was very attractive then, and he retains some of his boyishness even now.

Speaking of guards, Sayuri had started accepting applications for every personal servant in the spectrum—cooks, maids, butlers, guards, chauffeurs, and whomever else. Naturally, hundreds applied for the job. We have too many new faces here, and I'm determined to befriend all of them.

I had almost forgotten about the trial.

The judge was relatively approachable to everyone but Sayuri. One can imagine her reading all about us in the newspapers, imbibing all the lies, the distorted half-truths, all the aspects of our lives improperly represented. Believing that my brother was a schizophrenic, believing me a mute seized in grief, believing my mother was psychotic and homicidal, believing my father was an adulterous scoundrel who finally redeemed himself in a burning building... There was validity to these claims, but no one ever knew the whole story. People are crazy for a reason. Likewise, we're all dying off for a reason, but this is beyond the public understanding, as it draws on an old fairytale some 400 years old.

But I digress.

She looked on me in the witness box with pity, but her eyes took on seething anger whenever the lawyer who represented my mother tried to say anything. Indeed, the odds were against her more than any of us could bear. That was to be expected.

What wasn't expected was the leeway Sayuri received.

She served 30 days in prison, was put on house arrest and probation, and had to pay Kayako's family for the damages. Kayako only suffered from a sprained ankle, a small cut on her shoulder, and a few bruises from being pushed and shoved around from all the chaos. Yet Sayuri coughed up what would be twenty thousand dollars in American money for those baby bites. When we were younger, my brother and I were whipped repeatedly with poison ivy—we had lacerations that felt like the flesh of our backs would tear open and expose our spines. We received no compensation of any kind, and now that he's dead, and I, whom fate's good graces had never known, doubt either of us ever will.

You'd think that with a charge as serious as attempted murder, it wouldn't give one just 30 days in prison, but sadly, with enough money, nearly anything is possible. The one hundred thousand bail was paid in full, and the stab wounds were miraculously overlooked by the bribed mortician, who falsely claimed that the fire had "singed the body down to its constituent bones, leaving no trace whatsoever of flesh"; in addition, Sayuri held no wake, claiming, even to me, that there was simply nothing left of my father.

We were not on speaking terms for nearly a year thereafter, but it was mutually understood that Sayuri had practically murdered my father, or, at the very least, driven him to his death, and that I, again, was powerless and would remain so as long as I lived in this abyss.

After my father's death, I had started to garner something of a public image, displaying my family's artwork at absurd galas, ballroom parties, prominent hotels, museums, libraries, and even a yacht or two. Sayuri didn't want them—they provoked terrible memories, so I was to rid the house of them. The sole solution to a problem in her eyes was simply depriving it of employment or throwing it in the trash bin, but I thought maybe a lighter atmosphere would distill the dark spell she often casts on the inhabitants of her home. But like the insufferable vampire she is, she wouldn't hear of such a stupid request.

"If I die or get thrown in jail again, you have my blessing to burn this house to the ground," she said once.

Humor, however dark, was largely unfitting of such a woman.

Sayuri and I were the last of a dying breed, so she became very adamant in my initiation into the world of courtship. The quicker we acted, the more chance we had to perpetuate our lineage before it was too late. I seriously doubted I would find a marriage mate in the exceedingly snobby, supercilious world of upper-class Tokyo. I assumed that she wanted me to marry someone of high rank—but money and prestige often turned people from humility, compassion, empathy, and open-mindedness. Rather than a strong financial background, I wanted more of those qualities in a man. Something that brought me back to the way Souta used to be.

Sayuri said that was all good and well, but at the end of the day, the world revolved to make a profit. However true that proved to be, it didn't dissuade me from my initial opinion. Later I was to find we would come to an unprecedented compromise.

The initial step was to make me attractive, so she started to primp me. I was taught how to do my make-up—what colors went with my complexion, how much to apply, ect. She gave me possibilities regarding my hair. I could braid it, relax it, dye it. Disagreement, as always, was futile: If I didn't like what she did with my hair she would shave it off and find me a wig.

The second step was proper education. Not only was I to be beautiful, but I would have to fill all that empty space in my head with things I saw no need in learning. I received tutors that educated me in useless subjects like Latin, Greek, French, the piano and the violin. Sayuri briefly considered sending me to a private school, but either she or I could die by then, so this idea was dropped.

Wanting an immediate way out, I pleaded to be artificially inseminated, but Sayuri shook her head in repulsion and said, "The curse can only be broken by a full-blood Hikari—the man has to marry into our family for the spirits to consider his progeny full-blooded."

I quivered with disgust at the thought of going to bed with someone for only his seed and tried obstinately to withhold tears.

**

"I've got a surprise for you," she deadpanned as we were walking down the hall one day. With my still-freshly bitter feelings and my father still newly dead, it was hardly a time for surprise, but she wouldn't be denied, even when I made apparent my distaste for anything she thought I'd like. She hooked her arm around my own and brought me down the stairs.

There were four men waiting at the door.

"For you," she smiled, pretending she was capable of a genuine one. "We're to have dinner with them tonight."

I stared at her. It was the only thing I could do without crying out in rage.

"Hullo. My name is Lian Hideyoshi. It's nice to meet you." He bowed, thank goodness, because I certainly wasn't going to give him a handshake in this state of shock.

"Lion? Like the animal?" I asked stupidly.

"Yes, that's the pronunciation, but it's spelled differently. It's L-i-a-n. Unusual, I know," he chuckled.

Instead of humoring him with fake respect, I decided to observe him.

Lian had all the marks of an upper-class snob. Tanned, perfectly proportionate in body, manicured hands, an expensive suit that put the others to shame, and shiny black shoes. I suppressed an awful urge to laugh. He must have thought I would be like him, polished and up-to-date like some 23rd century robot. My hair was a mess; I smelled of dust and old, far from jasmine or rose or some other silly flower; my eyes were dim and dejected from grieving; overall, you could say I didn't look like I was all there.

"Oh." I made a half-hearted bow to him (though I should have done a curtsy) and nodded to the others to introduce themselves to me.

"They are all respectable gentlemen from Tokyo and Osaka." Sayuri interjected.

"My name is Eiichiro Matsuda," the one to the right of Hideyoshi said. The one to Matsuda's left in turn said, "And I am Yu Maruyama," and bowed. The last one, I was to find, was the most unobtrusive and easily forgotten one of all. "I'm Satoru Ueda..." he muttered, slightly blushing.

"He said he's Satoru Ueda," Hideyoshi repeated for me, as if he had barely whispered his own name and I had hearing deficiencies. I could see that Hideyoshi was already at work trying to undermine the others. Matsuda laughed. Yu Maruyama patted Ueda's shoulder. "It's alright, man. We all get nervous."

The elongated table bore our four young bachelors, mother dearest, and me. We had bowls of uneaten salad, plates of uneaten caviar, bottles of the most expensive and untouched wine...yet no one dared to grab for food, though the plates were in front of them, the silverware wrapped delicately in white cloth, waiting for usage. At least, that's what I was forced to conjecture until Sayuri reminded them that there was food on the table. First Matsuda quickly snatched a slice of garlic bread and tossed it onto his plate, afraid he might be caught taking our food, then Hideyoshi reached for the steaming pot of _Soupa Touscana_ and poured it carefully in his bowl. Yu Maruyama took the bold move of smiling at me as he procured his own plate and began serving himself. Not even the graceful smile of a dashing young man, or the self-assured petty one of a rich son, but an informal, pass-you-by-in-the-hallway smile from school. I thought he must be the most superficial one of them all, excessively polite, but all a sham to get into my bank account and my panties. His dark violet eyes made me uneasy. When he smiled it was as if he knew me.

Yu Maruyama told my mother (who singled herself out as the questioner, when I should have taken that role) that he was an orphan formally adopted into a wealthy family who prospered in the steel industry. His father owned his own company and branches around greater Japan and seven other countries. He ultimately hoped to be listed as the primary heir, but he had competition because his father's nephew started living with them after his aunt's death, and his father has since taken to his nephew greatly.

His lankiness was another thing that didn't sit well with me. It appeared that he ate infrequently or simply forgot to feed himself half the time. Sometimes when he stood to get himself some more salad or wrapped his bony, vampire-fingers around his glass and drank I thought he might collapse onto himself, he was so skinny.

Anyway, onto Eiichiro Matsuda, the slightly annoying and attention-starved one of the group. He hailed from an upper-middle class family of lawyers. His father, Soichiro Matsuda, was a former district attorney. Surprisingly enough, he knew little of law, and more of crime, as before the dinner, when they were all given a tour of the mansion, he pointed out surrounding wall art featuring warriors and would describe, in lurid detail, all the things they would do to their victims or the supposedly redeeming act of Seppuku. Seppuku wasn't always carried out with a sword, he said. They sometimes poisoned themselves with cyanide, which I suppressed to remark was probably a lie. On several other occasions he interrupted Lian's self-centered speeches to impose his own, in an attempt to catch my interest. I knew Matsuda was an idiot to the core, and I hadn't even known him for more than twenty-five minutes.

Of course Lian stole back his show again, and proceeded to tell me that he was half-American, half-Japanese (as if I couldn't come to that conclusion myself) and he, like Maruyama, wanted to inherit his father's automobile business. He said the only difference between Maruyama and himself in terms of the inheriting problem is that Honda stands in his way, and not a single, alternate beneficiary. His father is heavily considering incorporating, and as of late he had been worried about it.

I did an amazing job of droning out the rest of Lian's life-wasting monologues, but lent my ear to the quietly told, concise biography of Satoru Ueda, undoubtedly the most humble of them all. Satoru Ueda came from a family of wealthy doctors; thus, he was currently at work on his doctorate in medicine from a prestigious university in Kobe. Sayuri was not satisfied with this little speech, however, and asked him additional questions. As a result he revealed he was 6'2, Norwegian and Japanese, and his favorite color was white. "Why, you remind me of my daughter, there," she said encouragingly. It was apparent she favored him over the others, but I wasn't sure what to feel about him. I was still searching for a fixed impression that Lian, Matsuda, and Maruyama gave me almost immediately.

Ueda's blondish hair betrayed his Asian heritage, but one could never mistake it: it lay extant on his face—his slightly stretched-out eyes, small lids, small nose, modest smile, heavy accent. He would always return my small, occasional glimpses, and then force his attention back to his Miso soup. I decided he was adorable, but not quite husband material. If he could manage to articulate a hearable sentence without being prompted to raise his voice or contribute to the conversation, I might consider having him over for dinner again tomorrow night.

As I've mentioned before, Sayuri was the inquirer, and the young bachelors jumped to the questions like they were on a game show. I wouldn't be suffered to speak and neither would he, so maybe that was why Ueda was faintly more appealing than the rest.

I couldn't say that Maruyama was as narcissistic as Lian and Matsuda, but he had a smug, complacent look on his face that I wanted severely to blot out. He answered on time, smoothly and without reflection, like he rehearsed this all weeks earlier. Nothing perturbed him, even as Lian was gaining on the competition, derailing Matsuda from the fight, much to Matsuda's childish irritation.

Suddenly able to take no more, I asked to be excused for a bit, but Sayuri bid me sit down; if I wanted a drink she would have someone fetch me one. I stood again and said that unless she planned to have someone fetch me a restroom I'd have to be excused. Lian's eyebrows were raised and Matsuda gaped at my thoughtless disrespect, but I cared nothing for it. I took my leave as soon as I knew she had no reply to make.

Much to my immediate disgust, we both met up in the bathroom, and before I could utter a word, I received a hard slap across my face. I took a moment to recover, and then said, "Nicely played, mother. What kind of impressions will they leave with tonight, I wonder."

"You know why I never liked you? It's because you're a whiner. Setsuko was the good one; she never asked questions, accepted things like they were, and obeyed me unconditionally. Souta was better than you still. He accepted my power without any thought of an insurrection. He knew what was at stake if he kept chasing meaningless things like friendship and romance. But you...you'll never be satisfied. Just because we're rich doesn't mean you should expect a life of grandeur. We're Hikaris, so just deal with it."

"I didn't say anything like that!" I cried, on the edge of tears. "I hadn't complained since they came!"

"Don't bullshit me. I see it plain as day in your eyes. To think you'd have hardened yourself to cruelty instead of always shuddering and weeping under it. This is life."

She saw further protest in my expression. "I could've just picked someone out for you—the dullest, most conceited, big-headed man I could find—and _force_ you to marry him. Arranged marriages are still commonplace in prominent families. Is that what you want? I'm already compensating for your total lack of feigned interest. Be grateful for once."

"Just...why now?"

"You've come of age. It's time for you to make perhaps the biggest decision of your life."

Before we reintroduced ourselves to the table again, Sayuri pulled me aside. "They're here to impress you, but you have to step up your game, too. Be interesting, be mysterious, be alluring, be whatever. Just reel one one of them in. I've already checked out their families, so now you have to help me judge them by their personal attributes."

"I can't—"

"Remember: I don't have to do this." she snapped.

Again at the dinner table Sayuri was the dominant one in the conversation. She asked them what hobbies they had, their prospects for life, their view on marriage, and so on.

Lian dished out wryly, "You're a very protective mother, Mrs. Hikari. But there's no need: we're all good men here. You can trust us with her."

They all chuckled. She replied, "Yes, I'm afraid I have been a little too inquisitive of you young gentleman, forgive me. It's just that, since my dear husband's passing, I feel I need to take up his mantle."

"I heard you wore the pants in the relationship, Mrs. Hikari."

At this point, I could see that Lian was singling himself out for elimination. Sayuri became defensive, but made a facade of understanding and no appearance of offense. This was the mildest form of her scolding, never to be used on someone she knew intimately, like myself. "You're quite mistaken, Mr. Hideyoshi. My husband provided for me in every way a husband should. I terms of 'who wore the pants', my husband suffered no competition." She smiled. Matsuda shaped his lips into a ridiculous 'ooh'; Maruyama embraced a sly half smile and continued disinterestedly swirling the spaghetti into a spindle around his fork; Ueda coughed.

What a gathering.

For the next few days, I was to receive an excessive amount of attention and a overflowing dose of gifts. The majority of them were from Lian and Matsuda. I got a yellow rose and a teddy bear from Maruyama, along with his overbearing, all-knowing smile, and a modest, but expensive diamond necklace from the ever modest Ueda. I appreciated that Ueda could see right away that I didn't desire any of the gifts—and maybe Maruyama was on to that too, because he didn't give me anything else but that rose and the teddy bear. But I think that Sayuri wanted me to judge their merits based on how extravagant the gifts were. The men, seeing this, showered me with material affection not for my own approbation but solely to please _her_, as they knew that the only trail to my heart was through my domineering mother.

However, Sayuri wanted to get down to the real business of this whole husband charade: elimination. She brought this up almost the minute they had all gone.

"Hideyoshi. That boy pries. Chuck him." She commanded as we were strolling idly through the hall to reach the only place of relaxation she accepted beside her own bedroom—the patio.

"Already eliminating potential husbands, I see." I tried to keep my voice as emotionless as possible, though inwardly I was seething. So much for giving me my own options.

"Listen, I know troublemakers when I see them. The other three don't seem more promising, but no matter. If none of them do for you, then I'll have another four men at the front door by tomorrow. Men are simply lining up to marry you—they're practically leaving engagement rings at the front gates."

A blush assaulted my pale cheeks, making me look like a sick alien. Me, my unworldly self, would hardly know what to look for in a man—and Sayuri's input on the matter wasn't even an option in the advice department. "I don't know what to do."

"Tell you what—" Sayuri seated herself on the lawn chair and crossed her legs, intimating that I expand the awning to keep her from the dreaded sunlight she obstinately denied her needing skin, "Hideyoshi is a conceited, paparazzi dirt-bag, Ueda might as well shit out his vocal chords, and Matsuda is an idiot. Maruyama... That boy's a clown. He thinks he has the world in the palm of his hand. I remember being like that once.."

"...So the reason why you didn't insult him as bad is because you identify with him."

"No. It's because I'm still investigating into him."

That was the most she said where Maruyama was concerned. It soon turned to Ueda, the quiet doctor-to-be.

"He is kind, I can see that. But he may have only come here to see how we live, or if the rumors are true, like Hideyoshi."

"I don't think so. He told me once that the reason why he doesn't talk is because the more a person reveals about themselves, the more vulnerable they are to disappointment. I guess he needed to know that people like him exist."

Sayuri at first seemed to consider this in depth, and then responded: "So you're merely an object of interest to him," but still retained that distant-eyed expression.

In truth, Ueda interested me not because of his profuse silence, but his reason for it. It occurred to me that idea would be advocated by Souta, were he still alive to give me the cold shoulder for my benefit. But I told her otherwise. "I wouldn't like to think so. I hope we might connect on a deeper level, because none of the others are doing it for me."

"Well, then that settles it. I'm eliminating one man a night from this day onward. And the first to go—"

The next day I awaited their arrival by walking around the house. From a distance, I heard the muscular guard Kinniku (whose real name was Jun Moriyasu) say, "Have a nice trip, see you next fall," to someone who grunted in dissent. The person muttered something about a lawyer and evidently left, because I didn't hear him afterward. The reason didn't come to me that very moment, but when he came in he was so pleased with himself and seemed almost relieved. His biceps contracted in joy, he breathed in the air with his massive nostrils—and then noticed me on the staircase with my hands folded innocently over my white gown, tilting my head like a curious cat. "Was someone giving you trouble?"

His face went red and he failed to give me a proper answer. "Oh, Miss Hikari! No, no one was giving me trouble! You don't worry about that—_no_ one gives _me_ trouble!"

"Except for maybe me, what with my constant headaches." I smiled.

Kinniku's expression relaxed; he seemed to be studying me intensely. "You never give me trouble, Miss."

**

Sayuri often only addressed them by their last names, which is actually disrespectful, but you couldn't bother her about a trivial thing like proper names. I adopted this habit of calling them by their surnames. So, as such, there was Yu Maruyama (who pressed his first name), and Satoru Ueda.

I was alarmed that Lian and Matsuda didn't show up to dinner the next night, so I inquired into it. She simply told me: "Don't miss them."

Yu and Ueda knew from my reserve that I despised being taken outside my home, so we all agreed to a picnic just outside the mansion.

It went well for a while—Ueda could be more easily provoked into conversation now that there was no Lian or Matsuda to deal with. Though, as often as Sayuri is the bearer of misfortune, she also proves to to be the bearer of bad news. I could feel this from her silence that she had something pressing on her that concerned me.

"I'm not much of a wine drinker," I said as I eased the cork from the bottle with my thumb and forefinger.

Ueda looked like he was going to reply, but Maruyama added, "Me neither. I don't see why people need to drink to have a good time."

"You're young yet," Sayuri tore a grape from its cluster of siblings, "Some people _need_ a drink to have a good time." She indicated herself with her narrowed eyes as her tongue studied the initial, sour flavor of the grape.

"No kidding," Maruyama murmured, his eyes on me.

Sayuri and I left to go get some wine. I was pinching the cork when, all of a sudden, I heard myself say: "What do you think of Yu?"

"I see he's grown on you. His charm makes me wary—it's like he has nothing else to offer but a good personality. This is about money, too."

I frowned. "We're all rich here; can't see how it would matter."

"I'm not talking about _your_ financial future, but theirs."

"What do you mean?"

Sayuri's expression creased into seriousness. "I probably should've told you this earlier: around the time I was pregnant with Souta, your grandparents stipulated in their will that, if I was to inherit their fortune, I would ensure it to the next male heir immediately. It passed on to Ken, who ensured it to Souta, but now that they're both dead, the legacy is yours as of now, but you stand to lose it...and I'm biding my time..."

"What? You...you think you're...?"

"It's only a matter of when."

"Then...if I marry...and you die...all that money would be my husband's? I'm obligated to give all of my money to him—to pass it on to him _immediately_?"

"In accordance with the will, no portion of it is entitled to you by law—at least not permanently, anyway. As concerns the will, you're only eligible for "holding", not procuring. They put too much faith in Ken and Souta; hence, you cannot inherit the fortune. That's why I need you to help me judge which of these men has the most integrity."

My hands slid from the bottle. I was at a loss at how to lament this.

"Women in this family, up until now, have been looked on with prejudice. We perpetuate the curse, so the right to our fortune has been taken from us. Thus, the fortune only passes to male heirs. It's been an pervading law in our family for centuries."

"What were my grandparents _thinking_? It's as if the spirits started killing all the men off on purpose! Right when the Hikari family is down to just two women, our last humiliation is all of our life savings being seized by an outsider!" I cried.

"Yes, just as if I died before Ken, he would've had complete control over our estate—even though he was your father, he wasn't a full-blood, nor was he born into the family."

"Then shouldn't we debate this in court?"

"The amendments to the will were made final and have been in effect since Souta's birth; I had no right to contest it then, being a 'carrier'—it was undeserved generosity to be included at all. It beat being disinherited. And I don't even want to think of the publicity that will ensue if I take this to a district justice. I'm already on probation and house arrest. I'm sick of dealing with the government. And with that Hiwatari bastard on my back, I can't change the will without looking suspicious. He already thinks I came up with some convoluted plot to kill my parents so I could get their money—and now he thinks that I denied Souta medical help and was responsible for Ken's death so I could get the fortune back from him. If I contest the will—they'll think that _you're_ next on the list."

"I'm starting to understand this now. Your parents probably had my uncle Kojima as their heir, but when he _died_..."

"...I was seventeen when I found out Souta was on the way. My brother's death only exacerbated the situation." She began. "After my brother's death, they had no one else to invest in. It would take too long for Ritsuko to have another child and wait for him to find his Sacred Maiden before we all died off—and this is just _assuming_ she would have a boy. So the only course of action was to accept my pregnancy, marry Ken into the family, and hope that things would work in our favor until Souta came of age. Of course, that was too much to hope for."

"Now it's up to me, isn't it?"

"You and your spouse. He becomes part of the Hikari family and therefore, another bearer of the curse. You must not tell him this—ever. You understand? That's where I made the greatest mistake with Ken." She hesitated, poised on the edge of a confession. "Other than, of course, nearly taking his life."

I tried, and failed, to hide my angry tremoring. "Any other things I should know about?"

"Nothing—no, wait. You understand if you marry one of these men, they have to chuck their last name and accept yours. Usually it's the other way around. Other than that, I don't think I missed anything—" She poured herself a glass, "Unless you'd like to discuss the birds and the bees."

"No thanks."

I sat back down on the blanket, finding that Ueda and Yu had exercised patience until our covert discussion had come to a close. I felt so sorry for them, courting a woman like me, a woman who came with no benefits (unless my virginity was really that special to either of them) and only offered them the inheritance of an undesirable curse.

Trying to get my mind off of everything but the immediate present, I commented, " You know, I always call you Ueda, never by your first name. I'm sorry about that."

Ueda smiled, weakly as always. "It's completely fine with me."

"'Satoru' denotes intelligence, doesn't it?"

He blushed.

For some reason, that name had a profound impression on me. The thing was, I didn't like 'Satoru' as a whole. I would like a variant of that name better, something like—Satoshi.

The sensible, well-mannered Ueda appealed more to my mother, while the mysterious, ever-smiling, laid back Yu appealed to me. I found that it was probably because of his childishness—not that he was immature in any way—but the freeness of his spirit, his unworried nature, was what had transfixed me. I had had the pleasure of taking a stroll with Maruyama through the forest, and there we discussed marriage—not as it was about to happen, but the concept of it. "Marriage is a bonding, but you don't have to become that person or constantly adhere to their wishes to make it work—I personally think its more about maintaining your identity, the way you were before the marriage, and carrying it on like that," he said. "Just because you and I are two different people doesn't mean we're not compatible. Opposites attract for a reason."

I appreciated these thoughts and thought to myself: if I married him, I think I would enjoy at least a glimmer of happiness. If all fell down eventually, at least I can rejoice in the memory and be glad that it happened. Happiness doesn't come naturally to me anyhow. I might as well take a chance.

The only matter of business remaining was to inform Sayuri of my decision and, consequently, Ueda. She had promised me that ultimately it was my decision, so I tried to go out on a limb here and trust her for once. That night, I visited her bedroom, having been given unexpected permission to enter.

Nothing had really changed—maybe a slighter accumulation of dust, perhaps, but nothing more than that. Sayuri was, and always will be, a static creature.

I said this bluntly: "I like Yu better."

"I can see that. He's a child, like you," hitting the nail on the head, "And I can't conjecture you with a man like Ueda anyhow. His prospects are too high for your standard of living. Now that I think about it, I'd like it better to have this child suffer rather than Ueda. He's too smart to be ruined by a brat like you—in a house of the living dead, condemned to the very last cell in his body for the rest of his shortened life. You don't deserve him."

This was Sayuri's way of telling me that she would rather me marry Ueda—by telling me that I didn't deserve him. I think I managed to ignore her comments well. "I guess the only thing left for me to do is tell them both."

"I know that boy. Yu."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I know I've seen him before. He looks so terribly familiar it weighs on my mind."

"Is that such a bad thing? You probably saw him in the street."

"No, when I think of him, I think of your old school. Is he a classmate of yours?"

"I know I've never seen him before the day he first came here. Maybe he knew Setsuko? Or he was one of the children in Setsuko's school?"

"No, you fool. He falls into _your_ age group. So either I saw him as a child in the street or I saw him around the time Souta was in middle school..."

"Does it give you an odd feeling?"

"What?"

"Ken said never to ignore your odd feelings. Does it make you feel like that?"

"It's funny that only after my parents, my daughter, son and husband die that you take account of my odd feelings." She turned away. "I had an odd feeling about my brother first. A week later, he was dead."

I pondered on my pillow about what she said. Since Sayuri was known for only discussing dark matters, it was easier to shove that familiarity concept to the back of my mind. So what if I was about to marry a man that used to attend my school or someone she had seen around Azumano? I would rather wed a local than some kid from Osaka or Okinawa or some other place.

I guess the only real reason I considered Yu above Ueda was because he resembled Ken and Souta both in appearance and personality, though his mannerisms were from a much younger, naïve Souta that I barely remembered even existing. The thought even entered my that if he shared their appearance, he was even worthier of being the father of my child because I would likely bear a child who would express his genes.

I fell asleep not sure why it was so important that I wanted a son who looked like Souta.

**

I sat on the steps, waiting for Ueda. I decided that I would call them separately instead of both of them at once. I knew that Maruyama was too fond of me not to relish in the victory and rub it in his face, even if he only insulted him with his usual smug smile. I must have sat for an entire hour on those steps, feeling, above all else, conscious-stricken and terribly anticipating Ueda's reaction to what I had to tell him.

The knock penetrated the cold, lifeless air like an alarm. I took my hands from my eyes and stared at the door, thinking of Ueda behind it. Wishing that Ueda would know why I called him here and leave.

"Hello, Satoru." I had to make sure to call him Satoru—after all, it would probably be the last time I'd see him, so it was imperative to shun his last name. He would always be Ueda to me, simply because it was easier to say and it sounded better to me, but he deserved that final formality. Though, I could sense his distance with me: I was Miss Hikari to him. The Rio he would never know.

"Hello." he muttered predictably, with a slow, sad smile. I thought then that he knew.

"I have to tell you something."

Thoughtful, reserved Ueda stared at me. He didn't blink. "I'm not the one, am I?" Then he smiled. Genuinely. My heart started to pain, but no expression came upon me so he could know this.

"I'm sorry.." I blurted out.

"It's because he's child-like, isn't it?"

"What?"

"I'll tell you the truth: when I first saw him, I thought he couldn't possibly be rich. I was always taught that to be well-mannered, we had to keep our opinions generalized, our style new, our complexion immaculate...we had to be—but this has never been said to me—" He paused, formulating his words. It was the first time he had ever spoken without provocation. He rarely asked me questions, and never provided explanations beyond a sentence. His disappointment must have given him strength to speak up. "You know he's...he's freer than any of us—in our world, where we're raised to be perfect, we would hardly know what to make of him."

"..Can you tell me that I've made a bad decision?" The tears were welling, my eyes beginning to sheathe themselves in transparent silk, little streams waiting to overflow.

"I can't tell you," his smile faded, "I never thought I had much to offer, so...who am I to tell you he's worse or that I would love you better? Odds are, I wouldn't. I have no experience in love. I couldn't teach you anything—I'm so wrapped up in my—my rich, sleazy, medical-student world I—"

My lips pressed into his cheek and I fell into his arms, now fully crying like a despairing idiot. I had no idea what I was doing, but I don't think he did either, even as he instinctively rubbed my shoulders and stood still like a statue shocked dead by Medusa, staring ahead at the wall. "I didn't mean to upset you.."

Had Souta said something like that before? I kissed him on the cheek again because I felt he had.

Ueda pulled away from me. Not with disgust, but a powerful tenderness I had no idea he ever had in him. He wanted to stare at me, to imbed his sadness deep into me. I trembled and suddenly forgot why he was here—but I knew I didn't want him to leave.

"I know you. You're young, inexperienced, confused—_me_," he laughed bitterly. "I have a father like your mother. And like your mother, my father wants me to make the biggest decision of my life in the span of a few days—just to alleviate some petty financial worries of his because he thinks he's getting older... I couldn't control a lot of things when I was young, and from the way you're looking at me now, I know you must feel the same—or at least similar. I really think that even if Yu isn't a good choice, Sayuri will know. She's like my father in another way too: she smells a bad investment when she sees one. Either way, I'm sure that it'll work out somehow. And I'm happy for you."

I could have kissed him for those monumental words, but I chose instead to slowly break the tight hold between us and smile sadly back at him. I couldn't think of a more appropriate response. I hadn't even the sense to wipe my own tears. But he raised his gentle hand and wiped them for me, as flat-faced as the person I met just a couple of days ago—wary to make eye contact, often embarrassed over some scenario that only happened in his mind—the shy nothingness of Ueda. If ever Souta had come down from whatever world he was in (Nirvana, Hades, Heaven) and infected someone with his spirit, it would have been him. Because, as it came to be with Souta—first love, then emotionless. It always kept me hungry for something I could never get enough of.

"Let me get this straight," Sayuri pinched her nose after Ueda had gone and I possessed the composure to face her, "You chose this happy-go-lucky fool just so he can impregnate you with a replacement for your dead brother?"

The dam broke on me and I had to leave. Otherwise, I might have collapsed at her knees.

I would call on Yu the next morning.

* * *

Author's Note: As regards this story, I am going by the anime time-line. Meaning, I start from 2003 (when the anime was released in Japan and the U.S), and establish the chronology from there. I find I'm in better agreement with the years that way. Now, some information regarding Kei Hiwatari: he is _not_ Satoshi's stepfather. This is Kei Hiwatari _senior_, Satoshi's stepfather's father. I deduced the younger Kei could not be used for the scene when Sayuri is arrested because since he (spoiler) presumably died around 2003, when he was 26, at this point in the story his age can be backtracked to eight in 1985, the year Sayuri was apprehended and the year Ken died.

This is the first time I ever revealed what year it was, so maybe things are starting to clear up a bit. Now to Detective Saehara (Takeshi's father), of whose age I've designated about 22 years old in 1985—this would make him 40 in 2003, since they never specify his age and I think he looks about that old. I might start labeling her age and year from now on. If the readers would like that better, then please tell me so. ^ ^


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